Tainted love
Summary: Sequel to Twisted Morals, Sherlock and Jim are sharing John but it's not enough, they both what the full package. Unfortunately for them, John has his own plans.
Warnings: Blood, violence, sex, swearing
Rating: M
Disclaimer: The characters belong to BBC Sherlock and Arthur Conan-Doyle
AN- Wow, it's been a long time. Thanks to SalconeDestrivina who reminded me about this sequel.
"Johnny! Time to wake up!" John groaned and rolled over on the bed, a signal that he would get up when he was fucking ready to get up. Sadly, the worlds only consulting criminal was not taking no for an answer. The duvet was pulled from the bed and the soldier was pounced on and God when did the git get naked?
"Jim, get off!" John yelled as his hands were forced above his head. Sherlock had gone out of a case, he no longer needed both men with him to sleep most of the time but he did have bad nights when Jim and Sherlock all curl up on Sherlock's king-sized bed with him and gripped him tightly until he finally falls asleep. On those nights, the two geniuses would stay with him all night to chase away the nightmares. But that didn't mean that Jim had become the model citizen or that Sherlock had calmed down.
Jim savagely bit the doctor's neck while his hands worked to tie John's wrists to the top of the bed.
"I thought you wanted me to get up." John groaned. Moriarty chuckled deeply.
"You didn't listen to me. You know I hate it when I'm ignored." He growled, divesting the soldier of his pyjama bottoms. The doctor struggled to break free but a hand on his chest stopped him moving.
"You know how this works, Honey, the more you fight it the more it hurts." Jim cooed, lifting the blond doctors legs onto his shoulders.
"Boss?" John sighed in relief as he heard Moran's voice. God he hated that man and by hate, he would happily tear every limb off the vile creature slowly, soak them in strong acid then burn the remnants.
Sebastian Moran felt pretty much the same way about John. He despised the man who had taken away from him the only thing he had, by getting him dishonourably discharged. The only thing that was stopping him from conducting his revenge was his boss, who had not left them alone in a room since he allow Moran to have his way with the doctor all those months ago. Sebastian was sitting on his hands and waiting patiently for his chance, though he knew that the chances of both Moriarty and Holmes slipping up, leaving Watson vulnerable, were dwindlingly low at best. Despite all this, right at this moment the hitman was the greatest person on the face of the earth to John.
Moriarty heard his sigh and narrowed his eyes.
"What do you want?" He hissed, not looking at the door.
"You've got a client." The one thing that both John and Sherlock objected to was clients in the flat. They would not allow Jim to conduct any of his business while at 221b. Which meant that the consulting criminal would have to travel back to his house, a building now inhabited by Sebastian.
"Well I'm busy." Moriarty replied, lining himself up.
"They don't want to wait, Sir. Actually, they were rather insistent." The doctor shook his head furiously as he realised that Jim was going ahead with his original plan.
"This won't take long." One the last word, Moriarty thrust into John, sheathing himself to the hilt. The doctor was unable to hold back the howl. He wasn't given the chance to get used to the feeling as the criminal started to move in and out of him, increasing the speed until John was yelling an endless stream of curses.
When the doctor came back to his sense, he was panting heavily with Moriarty gently cleaning himself off.
"Try not to walk for a little while, okay Sweetie?" He cooed. John huffed a laugh.
"Great advice, now untie me." He replied. Jim smiled darkly and him and the soldier groaned. "Oh come on. Just let me go." He whined. Moriarty patted his head and slipped off the bed.
"But you look so helpless. You know how it gets me when I see you like this. Covered in me and not able to do a damn thing about it." He answered, walking into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, he returned immaculately dressed. He took one look at John and rolled his eyes before moving to untie him.
"I expect some treat tonight for showing mercy." He warned.
"Piss off." The soldier scoffed. Moriarty kept his hands on the rope holding John to the bed.
"I could leave you like that all day then fuck you again when I get back for the cheek of it." He threatened. John bit his lip.
"Just untie me." He sighed defeatedly. Moriarty grinned and undid the rope, massaging the doctor's wrists when they were released. The soldier glared at him, not making a remark in case he found himself reattached to the bed.
"I think a blowjob would be nice, haven't had one in a while." Jim suggested with a wink before he slipped off the bed and walked out the door. John glared at the door for many minutes before rolling out of bed and making his way into the shower.
With a towel around his waist, John walked out of the bedroom to get himself a cup of tea. He once the tea was made, he padded back into the living room. Just as he was about to sit down in his chair, the doctor realised that he wasn't alone. Jim was watching him from his own chair while the sofa had two people on it. Two unknown people. Moran stood behind them. John clenched his jaw and shot Moriarty a look.
"You know the rules." He hissed with narrowed eyed. Jim smiled sheepishly.
"But Johnny, you know that the rules are only in place when Shirley is in the house. I don't see him here, do you?" He asked, giving his clients an apologetic glance. "Besides, go back to bed. I know that it must be killing you to walk. I'll even bring you breakfast when I've finished. My treat." John pinched the bridge on his nose. When Sherlock found out, he was going to go batshit.
"One hour. If they're not out by then I swear to God I am locking you out of the bedroom for at least a month. And if you don't think I can, think Sherlock. I'm sure he would love to keep you from me for a whole month." Without waiting for a reply, John stomped back into the bedroom and slammed the door. Jim waited a moment then smiled at his clients.
"Sorry about that, he's rather annoyed that I tied him up this morning. Soldier boys; they're so hard to control. Anyway, as you were saying?"
John lay back on the bed and waited. He was going to give that bastard one hour exactly and then he was going to lock the bedroom door and keep the key in the lock. After that, he was going to ring Sherlock and tell him, not that he wouldn't know just by walking in, but he seemed to get more annoyed if John told him. The doctor also decided that they were now even and there was no way that Moriarty was getting a 'treat'. God, that man was insufferable. Despite himself, the soldier chuckled as he realised that he often said the same thing about Sherlock. Both his geniuses were insufferable and he swore they were out to kill him.
Speaking of killing him, he hadn't heard from Mycroft since the man kidnapped him, four months ago. The physical injuries had long since healed but John found his insides quivered whenever he thought about the consulting detectives' brother. That didn't mean that he would become a wreck if he came face to face with the man, oh no, if he ever saw Mycroft again he was going to tear the man apart. He was going to break Mycroft Holmes' mind in two. John looked back at the clock. Fifty minutes had past. Telling himself that it wasn't a bad thing to spend nearly an entire hour plotting how to kill someone, the soldier got up and decided to find some clothes.
Just as the doctor found a clean pair of pants, the bedroom door opened. John turned round to find the consulting criminal prowling towards him.
"Don't do that, Johnny." He admonished, eyes blazing. The soldier gulped and slipped the garment on. There was no way he was going to let Jim fuck him twice in one morning without bloody well earning it.
"Piss off. You know I hate Moran and I swear when Sherlock gets back I-" John's rant was cut off when the criminal's hand clenched round his jugular.
"You disobeyed me, pet." He growled. "I thought you knew better than that." The doctor felt his vision swimming as he struggled to take a breath.
Just as John was about to pass out, the tension released and he sucked in air greedily, Moriarty's hand was still around his throat, threatening to squeeze again. The soldier knew exactly what the psychopath wanted. He wanted him to beg, to plead forgiveness, only this time it wasn't going to happen. John held Moriarty's gaze and forced himself to breathe through his nose. Jim raised an eyebrow.
"I'm waiting Johnny." He sing-songed shrilly.
"Then you'll be waiting a while. I've had enough, Jim. You don't respec-" The hand closed back round his windpipe and John stilled immediately. The Irishman was now glaring at him, the fury building up.
"Of course I don't respect you, I don't need to." He snapped harshly. His whole demeanour softened suddenly and he gently cupped John's cheek. "I need you, Johnny. I get restless when I'm not with you. I worry constantly about you. You're the key to my mental wellbeing but that doesn't mean you are worth of my respect."
The doctor gritted his teeth. He knew exactly what Jim was saying, that he was more an object than a person.
"Well I won't apologise. I did nothing wrong and, God help me, I refuse to be bossed about by you any longer." Moriarty's hand inched back to John's neck but before it got there, the man was forcefully yanked away. The doctor realised that he'd been so focused on the criminal that he hadn't notice Sherlock enter.
"I think our lovely John has made himself quite clear, don't you? Why don't you leave? Before I wring your neck for bringing the filthy dregs of society into my house." The detective growled darkly. Jim wasn't phased by his threatening in the slightest. He looked back to John then sighed.
"I'll be seeing you very soon then, darling. Daddy has work to do." With that, Moriarty slipped past Sherlock and walked out of the door in a swaying of hips.
"Did he hurt you?" John blinked, and turned to Sherlock.
"Hmm?" He asked, wincing as he remembered how much his flatmate hated to repeat himself.
"Did. He. Hurt. You?" The detective repeated, punctuating each word. John subconsciously rubbed his neck.
"Not really, I've had worse." He replied. Sherlock grunted and removed the hands to get a good look at the doctors neck. It was bruised but it definitely wasn't the worst he'd seen on his partner. One time, a client had double crossed Moriarty and he flew into a rage. Of course, John was who he went to. The soldier had decided to spend the next week inside the flat, not going outside for anything. Even with an escort. Unfortunately, Lestrade got rather worried about him and came over to see if everything was okay. He nearly filed a domestic abuse report when he saw the damage to John. The doctor stopped him and said that he had been mugged, that it wasn't Sherlock. The DI didn't believe him in the slightest but when the doctor begged him not to do anything, he agreed on the basis that should it happen again he would not only file a report but make sure that it was followed through post haste and have Sherlock arrested. The soldier had nodded stiffly, still adamant that it wasn't Sherlock who had hurt him. Greg Lestrade knew about his and Sherlock's relationship, he just didn't know that John was still with that Jim fellow who was there when he burst in on a 'drugs bust' and that Jim was actually Moriarty (though he had had his suspicions about that for quite some time).
While reminiscing on all the reasons why he was going to murder Moriarty as soon as John was able to be without the bastard, Sherlock scrutinised every inch of John, cataloguing every slight bruise, every mark. He would make sure that each blemish on his partners skin did not go unpunished
.
AN- Well first chapter is up! Happy days. I will try to update once a week.
B
x
