Oh why am I putting this here. My best mate and I challenge each other to three-minute Jim/Seb fics. These are kind of the products of that. I'm probably going to clump four-five drabbles together in one chapter, and then mini-fics and various other Jim/Seb things will have their own chapters.
Enjoy my cornucopia of love.
It's an awkward kind of writhing mess that happens every so often - usually on Tuesday nights, Jim has noted, when the business is the most slow - and it's uncomfortable and terrible slow agonizing squirming bloody teeth clashing against teeth is never a very nice feeling but they always end up doing it, and there's always that moment where Jim growls "I don't want to have sex tonight, not in this suit, not in this mind of mine" and Sebastian just laughs and goes "How would we even know we were having sex if everything we do together equates the feeling of having a dick up your ass?"
"So I know that sometimes Sherlock explodes with how much information he retains; all those ideas running around in his head. why the hell don't you ever blow up?" Jim's finger just barely strokes the side of the newspaper as he hears these words, and he smiles, a smile that Sebastian cannot see through the newspaper but he can feel it, not just in Jim's voice but in the air, and he goes, "Darling, if you haven't noticed the little fireworks going off all year round, you're not looking hard enough," and suddenly the scars on Sebastian's chest are red hot and the cigarette scars are burning, and he swears he hears some sort of fizzing but there's nothing, just words and the swipe of a newspaper page.
Sitting on a park bench watching construction workers blow shit up all day was, in essence, making love to Jim Moriarty. The little man would stumble to his plaything's flat for a cold drink and a small white pill to stop the shaking, and Sebastian would open the door, give him a once-over, and ask very bluntly, "You're on ecstasy?" to which Jim would reply, "Everything feels so warm," words echoed with a delirious laugh.
Sometimes they would sit in the cab together, Jim with his hair slicked back and his eyes covered with dark RayBans, a suit which was a bit too wide for his scrawny frame, and Sebastian in his perfectly nice suit, felt normal, albeit a little reflective, but normal, and he would say, with a tint of amusement, "You look ridiclous," to which Jim would just say slowly, "Finally the flesh reflects the madness within."