THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK PORN WITHOUT PLOT STORY. AND NOW… I don't even know guys. It was going to be a one-off John/Jim thing, but now it's more of a John/Jim/Moran story. I may continue this later if people like it, but for now, I'm going to call it complete. So please enjoy and leave me some feedback!
The Men in Flat #375
John fumbles with his keys as he walks up the steps to his new flat. His new home is on the third floor, at the end of the hall, second to last door on the left side. Number three-hundred and seventy-seven Parkrose Place. The lights above his head flicker now and again, and the sounds of different lower class domestic life filter through every door he passes. The carpet below his feet is stained so much that it's original color is completely unrecognizable through all the grime. The walls are cracked and the hideous floral wallpaper is peeling away from the old layer of equally tacky stripped paper underneath.
John hadn't really been picky when it came to getting a flat here in London. He was living off the dole after a nasty accident he'd had with his sister whom he'd previously been living with until recently. She'd shot him, and then tried to run him over with her car which, oddly enough, makes a man reconsider his living situation.
He leans heavily on his cane as he continues down the hall, glancing at the door directly next to his, number three-hundred and seventy-five. It has a tacked up "STOP" sign on it that is graffitied with permanent markers of many varieties. They appear to be scrawled names, the most prominent name being 'BASTIAN' right through the middle of the 'O' in stop. He can hear music pulsing inside the flat, the sort of steady rock music that he'd enjoyed in his University days. He wonders what kind of bloke lives in number three-hundred and seventy-five.
Probably pretty young... John thinks to himself. Just as he is beginning to get lost in thought, the door swings open. John stumbles as suddenly, a large man shoves past him and knocks him over. John grits his teeth and hisses in pain as his still healing body hits the dirty carpet. The large man storms off, but then, a smaller dark haired fellow is dashing out the door after him.
"Bastian! Bastian come back here! Sebastian don't you fuckin' walk away from me!" the small man shouts, his accent thick and Irish. The little man stops short in his pursuit as the larger man trots down the stairs and out of sight without even a backward glance. John watches the smaller man seeth, his shoulders heaving with his labored breaths.
He is probably a man in his early thirties, dressed in a beat up gray v-neck and a pair of equally battered straight leg blue jeans. His bare feet are swallowed by the dirty shag of the floor, and his wrists adorned with bracelets made of leather straps and some beads, and John finds himself intrigued by the strange outburst of domestic distress, but the pain in his leg and shoulder are quickly distracting him from any coherent thought. He stares blankly and is startled by the small man turning and catching him doing so.
"What!" the man snaps, shoving John's bad legs aside with a nudge from his foot as he passes and disappears back into his flat, slamming the door behind him, the sign rattling against the panelling in protest. John is slow to get back to his feet, and when he does, he retreats quickly as his bad leg will carry him into the flat. The whole thing gets him a bit on edge. He set to making himself some tea and contemplates the sound of the music thrumming through the walls and into his flat. He falls asleep on the couch, mug forgotten on the coffee table with the muffled sound as his lullaby.
It was three days before John happened to cross paths with his next door neighbor again. John was coming home from physical therapy late in the afternoon and had caught a cab to the Tesco for some basic groceries, and then another cab back to his complex. It was not far from his flat, but carrying anything while his shoulder was still healing was taxing. He carefully got out of the cab, plastic bag in hand, and he did his best to get up to the door. He fumbles with the handle to his building, trying to open it with his hand occupied by grocery bags and he drops his groceries while his shoulder twinges with pain. He puts all his weight on his cane for a moment and sighs as he looks down at his spilled goods. He starts to bend when a hand comes to rest on his uninjured shoulder.
"Here. Let me give y' a hand." came a familiar Irish voice. John shoots up suddenly, cracking his head against his neighbor's chin. John winces and beings apologizing quickly to the other man.
"I'm so sorry I... I'm sorry I'm a bit of a... Y'see my shoulder and my leg... I..." John stammers, and at first he doesn't notice the young man is chuckling at him and his misfortune. The dark haired man picks up John's stray groceries and places them back in the bag, opening the door as he finishes up.
"Thank you..." John mumbles as he heads inside and walks in silence to his flat, his young neighbor on his heels.
"Sorry about the other day, mate. Me an' the roomie had a bit of a tiff. It was bad of me to take it ou' on you like that." the young man states warmly. John simply shruggs his shoulder, grimacing at the pain.
"It's fine." John replies calmly, coming up to his door and digging through his pockets for his key. When he gets hold of it he slides it into the lock and pushes the door open. He turns to his neighbor, expecting to relieve him of the groceries, but the man seemed to invite himself in, walking past John right to the kitchen where he sets the bags on the counter top. John stares blankly at his open door for a moment, taken aback by the forward behavior, but then he too heads inside, the door swinging shut behind him. John hobbles into the kitchen frowning a bit at his companion.
"I'm Jim, by the way." the young man announces as he put away John's groceries. John raises a brow and sighs, taking a seat at his tiny kitchen table.
"John." he replies blandly. He watches Jim closely, noting that he looks like he hasn't slept properly in a few days. His face is tired, dark circles under his eyes, and he is strikingly pale. It made his deep brown eyes look like pitless black pools. Jim finishes putting the items away and turns to John smiling thought it seems a bit tense and plastic in John's opinion.
"Shall I put the kettle on then?" Jim inquires softly. John glances quizzically at his electric kettle and then to the strange man before him.
"I'm sorry but uhm..." John was finding himself at a loss for words, "I uh... What's...?"
Jim grins and shakes his head, filling the electric kettle from the tap and flicking it on. John could have sworn he heard the faintest of giggles from Jim and it rubs him in all the wrong ways.
"Where do you keep the... tea... bags...?" Jim muses, not really asking John as he scans the mostly bare cabinets for it himself. He procures the tea bags and a couple mugs with relative ease and John simply watches as if it were a train passing him by and he has no hope of stopping it.
"What are you doing?" John inquires finally, his tone showing confusion and slight irritation. Jim frowns comically at John.
"Don't ask such obvious questions." was Jim's reply as he hopped up and sat on the counter, crossing one leg daintily over the other. John isn't sure whether he's impressed with this man's audacity or just plain pissed off by it. Jim looks John over and his tongue darts over his lips as his head sort of cants back and forth, like a reptile examining potential prey.
"Want to see a neat trick?" Jim asks, but he doesn't wait for John to answer, merely goes right into hopping off the counter and digging into John's coat pocket. He pulls out John's mobile and scurries back to the countertop before John can really protest beyond a barked "Hey! What are you-!"
Jim looks at the screen for a moment, flips the phone over a few times in his hand, and then, taps in the security code as if he'd known it all along and unlocks the device. He does some more typing before handing it back to John as the kettle began to whistle. John stares down at his unlocked phone in disbelief, gaping a moment while Jim pours them each a mug of tea.
"Cream or sugar?" Jim asks, pouring spoonfuls of sugar into his own mug from the little ceramic jar John has next to the kettle.
"Uhm. No..." he mutters, his brows knitting together in curiousity. "How... How did you guess my passcode?"
Jim hands the mug to John and smiles smugly.
"That's the trick." Jim replies, winking at John over the brim of the mug as he takes a sip. John takes a sip of his own tea, and looks from the phone up to Jim, who goes on to explain. "I didn't guess. I never guess... The answers to all questions can be found if you know how to look..."
"Don't you mean where to look?" John inquires calmly, still in disbelief.
"No... How . John... You see. I could look right at you, right where I need to look to find the answer I was seeking. But if I didn't know how to see it... Then I never would have unlocked your phone." Jim replies with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. John narrows his eyes, not sure what to make of this strange man before him.
"How did you do it then? What gave it away?" John asks, setting his phone aside while Jim swings his legs lazily, his heels tapping lightly against the lower cabinets.
"Well. I can see by your build, haircut, and stature that you're an ex athlete. Judging by your hands, a bare-knuckle boxer, I'd say... You've long since given your dream of going pro up, considering you found out that you have some sort of illness that would make it far too difficult to continue. But still you love it and you have a hero. Then it was just a matter of thinking of who the most likely candidate for your idolization. You strike me as a good ol' queen and country classics boy... So the most obvious choice was William Thompson. But you wouldn't want to be too obvious, so I thought immediately of obscure but not too obscure references made to him in popular culture. Nicknames and the like. I noted your stack of books there in that box..." he gestured to a box by the coffee table, "...and saw that you had several works by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and it simply clicked. Your password was Bendigo ..."
John stares at Jim with a blank face for a few minutes before grinning.
"That was... fantastic ." John says softly, chuckling a little. Jim tilts his head and furrows his brows at John.
"Was it? Hm. Thank you then..." Jim replies sipping at his tea. John clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck.
"Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis." John states after a few minutes of quiet that passed between them. Jim's eyes light up with recognition and he nods. "How'd you know I was... Ill?"
"Your chest heaves sometimes when you breath, and I could hear your lungs crackle ever so slightly when you took a few heavy breaths outside." Jim replies softly. "I couldn't be positive what it was, but I knew it was something..."
John polishes off his tea and sets the mug aside.
"Well since you know all about me... How about you tell me about yourself. I'm not quite the observer you are." John says softly. Jim smiles a little and shrugs.
"I'm a Scorpio. IT man by day, and an exotic dancer by night. I like peppermint tea, rock and roll, rough sex, and a good bottle of wine on occasion. I've been known to play a good game of chess, and I'm always looking for adventure..." Jim responds playfully, bringing John into a soft fit of laughter which he joins in on. Jim finishes his tea as their laughter slowly dies down and he glances at his watch.
"I should be off. Sebastian and I have shifts tonight." Jim replies with a sigh, hopping down from the counter. "Thank you for the tea. I'll be seeing you around..."
John nods, watching Jim's form retreat out of his apartment.
"Yeah... Be seeing you..." John calls softly. He'd never been more intrigued by another human being in his entire life as he was just then with Jim. He found his flat felt remarkably empty without Jim in it and he sighs. He suddenly feels lonely. It is a feeling he hasn't been too familiar with in his life.
He doesn't like it.
So now he thinks on excuses to see Jim again...
In the weeks that follow, John's physical therapy goes well but he knows he'll never walk right again, and his shoulder is starting to feel better but he still has limited mobility, it still causes him pain. Occasionally he catches a glimpse of Jim or Sebastian coming or going, but he's always too late to say hello, too late to catch Jim's attention. He is growing more frustrated with himself. He's grown suddenly shy and can't really bring himself to knock on the other man's door.
A month and a half has passed and John thinks he might go crazy with loneliness and boredom. He is chastising himself for not making a move. What is he afraid of? Jim isn't some untouchable piece of royal jewelry. And then when John thinks his predicament can't get worse, Harry finds out his address. She has the decency to show up sober when she knocks on John's door, but when John sees her through the peephole in his door he only locks it and slides the chain into place in response. Harry hears the clack and sighs on the other side of the door.
"John, look I'm sorry... I... I'm getting help. I swear . I just wanted to come by and... And give you something, show you I'm sorry." she pleads softly. "I was gonna drink it but... Well I'm not gonna anymore..."
Harry sets a dusty bottle of vintage shiraz from their parents wedding on his little welcome matt.
"It's the last one left. I think you should have it... They would rather you have it than me... If they'd bloody talk to either of us..." she raps her fingertips against the door and sighs again. "But I guess us both bein' what we are... Well... They haven't come around yet, s'pose they won't..."
John stands, leaning against the front door, his head resting on it as he listens to Harry sniffle a bit. Had he not still been in pain from her attempt on his life, he might have opened the door.
"I'll... Be around if you... If you ever wanna fix this." she finishes, and then John listens to her footsteps fade away and the door to the complex rattle open and shut. John opens the door slowly and collects the bottle from the matt with a small frown. He looks at the label and runs his fingers over the cool glass.
John takes the bottle inside, cleans it up a bit, and sets it on his coffee table. He then returns to business as usual. He straightens up the flat, which now that he was all moved in and unpacked, had a much cozier feel to it. As he cleans his eyes fall on the bottle again and it is like he's seeing it for the first time as an idea dawns on him. He gets up and fixes his hair, puts on a clean shirt, and slips out of his flat. He makes the short journey to the flat next to his own with a feeble sense of confidence. He swallows uneasily as he listens to the thrum of music coming from inside. It is almost constant on the weekends like this, and John discovered early on he really doesn't mind. He likes to imagine Jim dancing about half dressed while cleaning or cooking.
He works up his courage and knocks as quickly as he can. There is shuffling inside the flat and he fidgets uneasily, looking at his own door briefly contemplating running as all his courage runs smack out of him. Just when he starts to lean toward his door, the stop sign rattles as flat three-hundred and seventy-five swings open. In front of John is not Jim, but Sebastian, clad in only his boxers. He is a towering and intimidating man and John finds himself wanting to run immediately as he looks over Sebastian's scars and muscles. His hair is sticking to his head, beads of water dripping off it, and he smells of damp skin, shampoo, and after-shave.
"What?" Sebastian growls. John has come this far and decides he won't back down now.
"Uhm. Is uh... Jim... around?" John inquires, glancing beyond Sebastian's body, looking for any sign of the smaller man. Sebastian shakes his head, raising a brow.
"No... He's not." Sebastian replies warily, straightening up. "He's with a client."
John isn't sure what Sebastian means, immediately he thinks, Client. Must be fixing a computer. On-sight job. Of course that'd be my luck...
"Come in... Maybe I can help you instead..." Sebastian says quietly as he takes on a more welcoming and fluid demeanor. John is considering turning and running when Sebastian beckons him inside with a jerk of his head toward the interior of the flat. It is decorated incredibly upscale for the kind of building they're in. All modern, designer furniture and clean, bright paint jobs on the walls. John swallows uneasily, feeling Sebastian's arm wrapping around his shoulders and guiding him inward. The weight of the other man's warm, damp, muscled arm makes John shiver a bit and he simply moves along, not sure what to do or say.
"Help me...?" John inquires finally, as he inspects the room further, noting the paintings on the walls and the hundreds of dvd's in the shelving units on the walls. Sebastian moves back to the door and shuts it, the lock sliding into place. John immediately regrets stepping into the flat. A million thoughts race through his mind, all of them filled with rape and murder. But when he feels gentle hands on his upper arms guiding him to sit on the plush blue sofa, he relaxes a bit. Sebastian is calm and inviting, a complete contrast to how he'd been when he'd opened the door.
"It's our job. We help people feel better..." Sebastian replies quietly, his voice smooth and warm as he slides onto the couch beside John. John can smell the musk of the other man and see stray droplets of water sliding down over his body. It makes his breath catch in his throat. This is far too close for John's comfort level, and his heart begins to race. John can't keep in the gasp that escapes him seconds later when Sebastian's hand slides up his thigh.
"Feel... Better? You... You're a p-prostitute ? I... I don't..." John suddenly wants to run away as quickly as possible and scrub the poison touch off his skin, but all thoughts of leaving go out the window when Sebastian's lips press gently against his neck and that hand slides under his dress shirt and over his chest. Every protest he'd thought of is momentarily clogged in his throat because Sebastian's fingers are skating over his nipples and he's already growing aroused. If John is honest with himself, it's been years since anyone has touched him. The warmth of the other man's palm against his chest and the rub of his surprisingly soft thumb over his nipple is making John ache, blood rushing between his legs. Sebastian chuckles softly and nods against John's throat.
"We prefer the term Pleasure Execution Specialists..." he teases softly, flicking his tongue out against John's neck, sucking lightly. John whimpers in a manner that he will forever be ashamed of due to how undignified it was. "Since you're a friend of Jim's... And I'm feeling quite... generous... And by generous I mean horny... this one's free..."
John doesn't have time to ask what Sebastian means by "this one" because everything is happening so quickly. Sebastian's hand leaves his chest and is working on his belt buckle, unhooking it deftly with one hand. John lifts his hips as Sebastian tugs hard at the strap, pulling it free of John's belt loops. John opens his mouth to try and stop this, but Sebastian's tongue is suddenly putting a stopper on his second attempt at talking his way out of this. John wasn't expecting Sebastian to kiss so sensually, his tongue sliding like velvet against silk, creating a tingling electricity in John. Sebastian's hands are working his button open and pulling at the fabric of his jeans impatiently. John gasps as Sebastian breaks away and watches the other man dip his head. John struggles to understand what Sebastian's doing at first, but then he sees, the other man is opening the buttons on his shirt with his mouth.
John moans as Sebastian's tongue slides over his chest and he arches up to it, wincing a little at the strain it puts on his shoulder. Sebastian glances up and notes the puckering beginnings of a still quite pink scar.
"Who shot you..." Sebastian wonders aloud, not really asking so much as filing the fact away in his memory. John starts to answer, and then suddenly his pants and jeans are around his knees and Sebastian's body is moving off the couch to crouch in front of him.
"Oh my..." Sebastian commented with a playful smirk, looking up at John, "You're quite gifted aren' you..."
John wants to answer, but all that comes out is a strangled noise of exasperation as Sebastian's warm, wet tongue slides up his thigh and then flicks against the tip of his manhood. John's member is swollen and the head is nearly purple he's so aroused. Every touch to his body and every hot puff of breath against him makes his hands shake and his chest seize. Sebastian's hand is around him in an instant, and he used his other to brace himself against the couch as he strokes John's member slowly, as if drawing pleasure out of watching John unravel at his seams. John whimpers and pants, his head dropping back onto the expensive furniture as he loses his ability to rationalize anything anymore. He can hear Sebastian rummaging in a drawer in the table beside the couch and he isn't surprised when he glances down to see a condom in the other man's hand. John's length has just begun to leak with need. Sebastian continues to stroke him with one hand while he opens the condom with the other and his teeth.
John doesn't protest when the latex is rolled down over him, and simply relaxes. He's not sure what comes next but he doesn't have to wait long to find out.
Sebastian's mouth his hot, inviting, and wonderfully skilled at what it does when it sinks down over John's cock. It's all John can do to keep himself from crying out like some sort of crazed and wanton creature. Sebastian's all tongue and suction, the occasional graze of teeth, just light enough to be teasing and not painful. It couldn't last. Not when it's been so very long. John finishes quick. His hips jerk up as he spills into the latex surrounding him, and his tip nudges at Sebastian's tonsils while he shudders through what may possibly be the best orgasm he's ever had. He feels Sebastian swallow around his spent cock and he groans in response, oversensitive and ready to yank himself away. His legs are trembling and his body feels pleasantly fuzzy in his post orgasmic haze. He just wants to sleep. As his eyes slip shut he contemplates how insane what he just allowed to happen is.
Sebastian removes the condom and returns with a warm, wet washcloth for John to clean up with. John takes it, still breathing heavy. He looks at Sebastian's swollen lips and lust blown pupils with a mixture of longing and shame as he wonders what he's supposed to do now.
"You... I..." John stammers softly, but Sebastian is carefully helping John up and redressing him from down on one knee. Sebastian chuckles as he looks over John's pleasantly flushed cheeks and he pats him reassuringly on the front of his jeans, winking up at the other man.
"Like I said. First one's free. Next time it'll cost ya..." Sebastian offers with a smirk. "Now be on your way. I trust you can find your way back to the door."
Sebastian is pressing John's cane into his hand and giving him a little push in the right direction, and John stumbles in a haze back to his own flat where he strips down and collapses into an icy cold shower. How was he to explain that to Jim?
I really like you and all, and I'd love to get on with you, but also, I let your roommate suck my cock?
And then John found what Sebastian had said sinking in.
"We..." John whispers aloud as the freezing water cascads over his body, calming him greatly.
Jim is a prostitute too.
John wants to be offended and appalled.
It isn't hard to be.
That is until he sees Jim again...
It is only two days later that he sees Jim, actually. John is tucking into his Pad Thai he'd picked up earlier this particular evening while sitting on his couch in front of the late night news reports. He's debating changing the channel when there was an urgent knocking on his door. John huffed a sigh and his mind immediately went to Harry. He rose in irritation, grabbing his cane and hobbling over to the he glanced through the peephole, however, there was no drunken red-headed sister there, but a very bloody-faced Jim leaning heavily into the arms of a very ashen-faced Sebastian. John yanked his door open and stared at them in disbelief. Sebastian sighed and looked from Jim to John. Jim was dazed, a serious gash on his forehead and a bruise forming under his eye. His lower lip was also split and John wondered just what exactly had happened.
"D'you have a first aid kit, by chance?" Sebastian asked as calmly as he could manage. John didn't think, just reacted.
"Take him to the kitchen." John said immediately, letting Sebastian and Jim in. John jogged across his flat to the bathroom where his first-aid kit was set under the sink and snatched it quickly up. When he gets to the kitchen, Jim is slumped backward against one of the chairs at John's little table. Sebastian is pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"Here..." John says quickly moving to sit in front of Jim. "Lucky for you two I took a course..."
John opens the kit and begins to clean Jim up. Jim groans and winces a bit, but hardly shows any sign of coherency. So after he bandages Jim up and takes him to the couch to sit more comfortably. Jim is sleeping in moments and John lets him, having checked him for concussion and finding he was fine. John covers Jim up with a spare duvet and lays him out on the couch, flicking off the telly. John turns then to Sebastian with a scowl.
"What on earth happened to him?" John demands softly, watching Jim's head loll on the couch cushions as he groans in his sleep. John sighs softly and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to block thoughts of movies and films in which prostitutes are murdered just because someone can do it. He doesn't like thinking of Jim as a prostitute. Sebastian shakes his head and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to John, who surprises them both by accepting it. Sebastian lights John's fag and then his own, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly through the nose before he answers.
"Jim was jumped again..." Sebastian explains quietly, shame and frustration making his voice thick and heavy.
"Again?" John asks with a tone of incredulousness. Sebastian can only nod in response as he sucks down more acrid smoke needing the nicotine to calm his frayed nerves.
"It's this bloody neighborhood. Jim is small, has the look of an easy victim... Which he isn't. He's a scrappy little fighter but... He never comes out of a fight without some bumps and bruises... This time was the first time he's ever bled. If I hadn't of walked outside to meet him... He... He forgot his key this mornin' and I was gonna let him in. I found him gettin' beat on by three guys twice his size..." Sebastian's eyes are red rimmed and he looks incredibly weary. It's then that John notes the bits of blood crusted at the corners of Sebastian's mouth and the dark bruise forming on his stubbled jaw. "We got into this business to get outta this place... But it still ain' enough..."
John reaches out and pats Sebastian's upper arm, trying to offer some comfort but he's fighting the feelings of awkwardness that come to him as he remembers what had happened earlier in the week.
"Maybe you shouldn't give away any freebies then..." John teases lightly, his tone tense, showing he's not entirely sure it's funny. Sebastian gives a chuckle though, and John's shoulders visibly relax.
"D'you want a drink, then?" John offers, going into the kitchen and grabbing a little saucer to use as an ashtray. Sebastian follows him, flicking away his ash into the dish while John pulls down a couple wine glasses and the bottle his sister had brought by. It felt like as good a time as any to drink it. John's thoughts of inviting Jim over for drinks had dissipated after his encounter with Sebastian earlier that day.
"Yeah... Could use one really." Sebastian mutters as he sits at the kitchen table, watching John with a somewhat curious eye.
"Hope wine's okay. Haven't been much of drinker lately..." John replies softly, pouring them each a glass. He sets the bottle on the table and then a glass in front of Sebastian. John's cigarette is dangling between his lips precariously as he sits and Sebastian stares at the ash collecting at the end, ready to tumble off. John swipes the fag from his mouth just in time to let the ash fall right into the saucer.
"Why's that?" Sebastian asks softly, taking a sip of the wine and letting the liquid linger on his pallet for a bit before swallowing. John chuckles bitterly and takes a gulp of wine, despserate to have a bit of mind numbing alcohol in his system.
"My sister... Harriet... She's the one who shot me. She also tried to run me over with her car... That's why I'm in this little flat, living on the dole. She's a bit of an alcoholic..." John's eyes lower to the glass in front of him as he takes another drag off his cigarette. "I say bit..."
Sebastian gives a hearty laugh in response.
"She sounds like a right nutter." he states with a little half smile. John smiles in return and takes a sip of wine.
"Could be." he agrees, nodding a little. John watches Sebastian suck down a mouthful of wine and he tilts his head a bit at the other man.
"So how'd you meet Jim?" he asks softly, running his finger around the rim of his wine glass lazily, polishing off his fag and snubbing it out in the china. Sebastian cracks a bit of a grin and snubs out his own cigarette, pulling out another for each of them. He lights his and then hands the lighter to John. John watches Sebastian blow smoke into the air, making the fluorescent lit kitchen hazy.
"He bailed me out of jail two years ago." Sebastian says with a small laugh. "Jim came from money. Big money. Y'ever heard of the Moriarty Enterprises...?"
John nods in recognition.
"Of course. They own half the businesses in London." John says softly, taking a drag off his cigarette.
"Well that boy in there is the ex-heir to the Moriarty family fortune. He used to be James Moriarty, son of a corporate genius. But Jim's genius is... Quite decidedly different. He likes to play games, learn people, help them even... One day, he took his shiny BMW and a big wad of daddy's cash and he came down to the local police station... He wanted to bail someone out, just because he could. And he chose me..." Sebastian shakes his head at the memory of it. "'Course Daddy found out and was furious. It was 'bad for public image'. So he disowned his son, stripped him of his name, his trust fund, all of it..."
John is taken aback at the very thought of Jim losing everything for a petty criminal.
"So when he showed up here on my doorstep after losing everything and told me he was the one who did it, I couldn't exactly turn him away." Sebastian looks over his shoulder out into the living room where Jim is slumbering on the couch. "And we been together ever since..."
"Together?" John inquires, his voice strained a bit more than he would have liked. Sebastian nods and turns back to face John.
"Yeah. We just fit." Sebastian says softly, his eyes crinkle with a slight smile as he notes John's flush of embarrassment.
"John... I don't mean we're exclusive. We're just... Us. It's not exactly definable as a relationship, if that's what you're thinking." Sebastian says softly, polishing off his wine. John drinks down the rest of his glass as well and snubs out his second cigarette. When Sebastian follows suit, everything is painfully quiet.
"I'd rather not move him tonight. If ya don't mind..." Sebastian announces after a few moments of awkward silence. John nods.
"Of course. Uhm... Would you like... to... Stay over as... as well, then?" John asks as he quickly gets up, taking the glasses to the sink. He's rinsing them out with his back to Sebastian, when he feels the heat of the other man's chest against him. Sebastian's hands are on the counter on either side of him and John feels incredibly small and trapped.
"Might do..." Sebastian replies, "If you're... offering to let me."
John turns quickly, finding himself nose to nose with Sebastian, the smell of acidic wine and harsh cigarette smoke on his breath. John swallows uneasily and presses back against the counter, wanting to duck out from under Sebastian's arms and run, but he doesn't. He simply nods instead. Sebastian smiles softly and leans in, capturing John's lips in a soft kiss. When they break apart John has his eyes tightly shut and Sebastian leans close to his ear.
"Lilo?" he asks, his voice dusky and warm. John shakes his head and finds himself drawn closer, his nose nudging Sebastian's neck lightly as he inhaled the scent of the other mans cologne mingling with the tangy of blood on him from Jim, and sweat from when he'd broken up the fight. John swallows.
"Don't have one." he rasps.
Sebastian slowly steps back, letting John free, and John takes Sebastian's hand, guiding him to the bed.
As he walked past Jim, John began to wonder how he'd ended up in this situation. But as Sebastian's lips touched the back of his neck, and his warm, strong hands slid his shirt up over his head, John let it all go and succumbed.
Morning comes quickly, and though he took another to bed, John awakens alone under the duvet. His body is sore and there are used condoms in the bin next to his bed. He grunts a little as he pushes himself up from the mattress, his hair a mess and his legs shaking a little as he climbs out of bed, still completely nude as he shuffles along to his dresser and grabs a pair of pants and slips them on. He grabs his dressing gown, readying to head for the shower, when he begins to become more aware of the sounds and smells coming from the other part of his flat. There's soft music, and John recognizes the band as The Smiths. He can smell coffee and bacon in the air. He slips into his dressing gown, padding out into the living space, seeing Jim curled up on the couch, duvet over his shoulders, and mug clasped in his hands.
He glances over and sees Sebastian cooking in his kitchen.
"What's all this then?" John asks, sitting down on the couch beside Jim. Jim cracks a smile.
"Well, it was my idea... Though you've spoiled it. I was going to have Bastian bring ya breakfast in bed as a thank you for helping me out last night." Jim says softly, sipping his coffee. "I had him bring over some bacon and he's makin' hotcakes too."
John glanced over to watch Sebastian cook through wide open doorway to the kitchen. Sebastian is whistling along to the music as he flips the hotcakes and shuffles the bacon across another pan.
"Did you sleep well?" Jim inquires, dragging John's attention away from Sebastian. John nods and then, his cheeks betray him by blushing. Jim chuckles softly and rubs John's shoulder.
"It's fine John." Jim assures him, a knowing look on his face. "Let me explain something about Sebastian and myself... You see. We're not exactly clingy blokes and... we're always looking for people who compliment us... Not just as individuals, but as a pair..."
John isn't sure he understands what Jim is getting at, and Jim seems to know this. Jim leans over and kisses John's cheek softly, and then his lips. John doesn't respond at first, he's been caught off guard, and he feels ashamed because the taste of Sebastian's skin and cigarettes are still lingering in his mouth. But Jim doesn't seem to mind, and John give way, kisses back, and enjoys it. Jim's lips are soft and the split in them makes the kiss taste coppery. John chases after Jim's mouth the first time Jim tries to pull away, and John's insistence beings a slight laugh from the smaller man.
John lets Jim's mouth leave his own and he turns his head away, embarrassed by his own behavior. Jim reaches over and grabs John's chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.
"I like you, John." Jim's smile is somewhat goofy, but very genuine. "And Seb does too... So just relax and don't think so hard. You might hurt your poor brain tryin' to figure it all out. Overthinking things can ruin some of the greatest experiences in life..."
John isn't sure what to say, but something about the warm smile Jim is giving him and the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen lulls him into a sense of security. John slowly rises from the couch and heads into the kitchen, the inviting smell of coffee calling to him. Jim simply relaxes back onto the couch and watches him with a strangely amused gaze. Sebastian glances at John as he enters the kitchen, and he gives him a little half smile.
"Mornin' sunshine." Sebastian greets warmly. John pours himself a mug of coffee and looks over at Sebastian's stacks of hotcakes and bacon with a raised brow.
"Morning ." John replies, plucking a piece of bacon from the plate and taking a seat at the kitchen table. He watches Sebastian finish up his cooking and smiles as the other man makes him up a plate without prompting and sets it in front of him.
"Oi!" Sebastian calls, and Jim hops up from the couch, coming to the little table as well. There are only two chairs, and John thinks on getting another one soon. It's as if Jim can read his mind and he grins.
"So you'll be havin' us 'round more often then?" Jim asks as Sebastian puts plate in front of him as well before going over to lean against the counter with his own plate in hand. John flushes again and looks from Sebastian to Jim and then down to his plate.
"Hopefully next time uhm... On better terms, yeah?" John offers. Jim shrugs and shakes his head.
"Any terms are fine with me. As long as life's interestin'..." he replies, taking a bite of bacon. Sebastian snorts and shakes his head.
"Jim, we need to get ou' of this bloody place..." Sebastian chides softly. "I can't handle the idea of you gettin' mugged like this again..."
John watches Jim's expression darken.
"We simply don't make enough to get a better place, Sebastian. I don't see the point in arguing this anymore..." he replies softly.
John surprises them all by cutting in.
"How much more a month than you pay now could get a nice three bedroom flat in a better part of town?" he blurts. Sebastian and Jim both give him a startled look, and John hides behind his mug of coffee, starting to regret saying something. What was he even trying to say? Or offer?
"Around five hundred quid, depending..." Jim answers after a couple beats of uncomfortable silence. John nods and rubs the back of his neck. Sebastian looks from Jim to John and frowns a bit.
"Mate are you... You want to share a flat...? Knowin' what we do for a living?" Sebastian asks, slightly wary of anything John might say.
"Sure... I mean. I've got a job lined up for after I finish my PT's... We could... We could all get out of this awful place." John was trying to figure out where all this was coming from as it spilled from his mouth. Jim's eyes light up a little and Sebastian looks like he's trying not to be hopeful about the whole thing. John nods slowly and Jim chuckles softly.
"You're nuts..." he comments playfully. "But I s'pose it couldn't hurt to give it a go..."
John smiles weakly.
"And while we look 'round and I finish up my PT's we could always... Get to know one another... better." John says softly.
Sebastian snorts a little and takes a bite of hotcake to keep himself from commenting on how well he was getting to know John. Jim cast Sebastian a sly grin and he shakes his head at him.
"All right then." Jim agrees. John can't help but smile as he looks from Sebastian to Jim.
"All right then." he echoes, feeling lighter than he has in ages...
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