Chapter 2. Not much else to say, except that I enjoyed writing this far too much B3
*Smut and slight BDSM warning. Don't like, don't read.*
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (c) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Sherlock BBC (c) Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffat
Moran lurked in the dark alleyway beside Speedy's, waiting for his prey. He was eager to get all this done with so he and Moriarty – Jim, oh Jim – could properly enjoy each other. That quick fumble in the doorway had been satisfying, enough to stave off the desperate urges for Moriarty he had to constantly quell, but it paled into insignificance with the promise of a full together. It had been so long…
But despite the anticipation in his blood, he concentrated fully on the job at hand. His job was very simple: get Doctor Watson into the alleyway, into the waiting car, strap him up with a jacket of Semtex, and take him to the pool. If he didn't leave the flat of his own volition, it would be easy to knock, pretending some dire emergency, and drag him into the alleyway.
Moran checked his watch and was about to make himself look more like a mugging victim when the doctor obligingly stepped outside, smiling about something. Moran allowed himself a brief smile before smoothing his expression again.
Silently, he pulled a gun from his shoulder rig and stepped up behind the doctor. He pressed the cold barrel to the nape of his neck, eliciting a shocked gasp.
"Doctor Watson," Moran said softly, taking his shoulder firmly. "You'd best come with me."
"Who are you?" Watson asked bravely, holding his hands away from his body and standing very still.
"That doesn't matter. Now walk backwards with me. There is no need for this to be unpleasant, as long as you co-operate."
Watson obeyed, clenching his jaw angrily. They slowly backed into the dark alley, the sound of Watson's elevated breathing loud in the quiet night.
"Good," Moran said, halting them. "Very good. No need for anyone to get hurt. All going well, you can be on your way shortly, no harm done. I would really prefer not to shoot you."
"How very sensitive of you," Watson said sarcastically.
"My employer would be very displeased if I failed him in this," Moran replied, even quieter. "And I would do anything to avoid his displeasure."
"Oh yeah? And just who is that?"
Moran smiled coldly. "Moriarty," He breathed, the name like a prayer. Watson stiffened, his breathing ragged with fear. "Now, hold still while I dress you."
"Dress me?" Watson exclaimed, startled. He almost turned around but Moran flicked back the safety catch on his pistol with an audible click, and the doctor stilled immediately.
"No sudden moves, Captain," Moran said. "Hold still and everything will be alright."
There was absolute silence for the next few minutes as Moran clothed him in the packs of explosives and heavy winter coat to cover them, keeping the gun trained on him all the while.
"Very good, Captain," Moran said softly, breaking the silence. "Now the earpiece."
When that was fitted, Moran switched it on and fitted his own earpiece and transmitter, not taking his eyes off the doctor.
"Are you done?" Moriarty asked him through the earpiece, all work now.
Moran nodded. "Affirmative. Ready to proceed?"
"Oh, am I ever," Moriarty chuckled. "Bring him along. I'll coach the good doctor through the doors, don't worry."
"Look," Watson said, a note of real panic in his voice, "There's no need to do this. Really. I'm sure that whatever this is, we can just… just talk it out. No need for e-explosives…"
"Captain, this is no matter for words," Moran replied, his voice a little hoarse from its overuse. He hadn't talked so much in over a week. "You comply, and no one gets hurt. You fight, and yourself and most likely the good detective will both be killed. Instantly."
"You're a military man, aren't you," Watson tried another tack. "Addressing me by rank, holding the gun steady. Prepared, calm, cool under pressure. A military man like me. There's no need to do this."
Moran checked his watch briefly and a muscle in his cheek twitched. "There is no time. Get in the car."
Watson hesitated for the time it took Moran to press the barrel more firmly into his neck and fetch a knife, the distinctive flick of its unsheathing enough to ensure co-operation. They slowly climbed in the car together, Moran keeping the gun trained on Watson faithfully, the knife held loosely in his other hand.
"Drive," Moran raised his voice a little, and the faceless driver eased the car into the night.
They rode in silence, and Watson surveyed Moran with wide eyes, no doubt gathering information for the Holmes to deduce.
"Why are you doing this?" Watson asked as they stopped outside the pool. "Why commit these crimes, why do it? Is money enough?"
Moran's lips twitched and his eyes bored coldly into Watson's. "It's not about money, nor honour, nor duty nor love of country, or lack of any of those. My employer keeps me well paid, but that is not my motivation."
"What, then?" Watson asked.
"I enjoy it. A lot."
Watson swallowed nervously, looking ill. "Right then. Well, are we going inside?"
Moran said nothing and calmly waited. Sure enough, a few minutes later another car pulled up, a black cab. The distinctive coat-swishing figure of Sherlock Holmes stepped out, passing some cash to the driver, who beat a hasty retreat.
"Not a word," Moran said softly, shifting his grip on the knife meaningfully. "Silence."
Watson gritted his teeth and watched Sherlock enter the building. Soon enough Moriarty gave the go-ahead for Watson to be brought inside. Moran walked him in, gun to the back of his head and knife held ready.
"No funny business, Captain," Moran said softly. "Do exactly as he tells you and no one will get hurt."
Watson gritted his teeth and walked slowly through the doors to the actual poolside, following Moriarty's hushed orders in the earpiece. Moran watched for a moment before walking briskly to an upper level and setting up his rifle with some other snipers; he exchanged terse nods with those he had met before. There wasn't a massive pool you could dip into for professional, discreet assassins, after all. Ha.
It was a beautiful encounter to behold, it really was. Holmes' shock and uncertainty at seeing Watson there, and the glorious sound of Moriarty's voice echoing through the pool. Moran couldn't stop the grin that stretched his lips as he watched Moriarty swagger and outmanoeuvre Holmes. He still kept a careful eye and a laser sight on Holmes, but he watched that marvellous man in the grey suit from the corner of his eye.
Everything was going swimmingly – he permitted himself just a moment to mentally scold himself for that – until Moriarty's phone went off. Moran's grin twisted bitterly into something cold and ugly; it was that Adler woman. Interfering again.
And she had changed Moriarty's ringtone. Moran knew what that meant. Bitch.
"If you have what you say you have, I can make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." Moriarty promised coldly, waltzing out. The other snipers glanced to Moran for some guidance, and he reluctantly put the safety back on his rifle, grimacing. The others followed his lead, no happier than he was. The opportunity to get a shot at the great Sherlock Holmes had been more of a lure than the money for most of them. They packed up in silence and waited for Moran's say-so to leave; Holmes and Watson were still by the poolside, and it was considered shameful to have the target spot you.
They eventually left, laughing nervously and standing on shaky legs. Moran nodded tersely and the others filed down the back stairs quickly, a few obviously leaving for other jobs. Only when he was alone did Moran step down and retrieve the Semtex jacket. He stuffed it into a backpack Moriarty had left for him in a locker and used a long net to scoop up the memory stick. Even if Moriarty hadn't wanted it, there could still be valuable information left on it; it was most likely waterproof, and some data is always recoverable. They could make a tidy sum by selling it off.
He calmly made his way to a nearby taxi rank and after an hour or so of hopping in and out of black cabs, leading any pursuers on a merry chase, he was unlocking the door to Moriarty's domain once again. He wasn't sure what to expect with the foiling of Moriarty's plan, but he desperately hoped a night writhing beneath the sheets was still on the cards.
He carefully placed the backpack down in the hall and walked calmly into the living room. Moriarty was already there, of course, perching on the arm of his chair, his shoeless feet propped on the cushions. He had taken his jacket off and had his back to Moran, leaning on his knees; he could see the shirt straining across Moriarty's back, tight across his deceptively powerful shoulders, tight around his narrow waist. Moran bit the inside of his cheek, pushing down the urge to run his hands over Moriarty's back, to feel the smooth silk beneath his palms and the firm solidity of those muscles. He had tried that once and been firmly… reprimanded. He was not to touch his employer without express permission.
"Take the Semtex to Scotland Yard tomorrow," Moriarty instructed him, obviously having heard the door open. "That should be a nice surprise for the good Detective Inspector."
Moran nodded; it didn't seem to require a reply.
"I've dealt with Adler," Moriarty continued, still looking away into the distance, expression blank. "Seems we can work this new turn to our advantage."
Moran nodded again.
"Oh for fuck's sake say something," Moriarty snapped irritably. Moran's heart sunk; maybe sex was off the cards.
"What do you want me to say? 'Yes Boss'?" He replied instead, voice hoarse and soft.
Moriarty's shoulders loosened a little; he was regaining his composure. "No," He said quietly, considering. "No. You did well tonight, Moran. The good doctor looked very out of his depth."
"Thank you," Moran replied, inclining his head. A little flicker of warmth came to life in his chest at the compliment. "He co-operated obligingly. Until that sad attempt at heroism, that is."
A ghost of a smile curled Moriarty's lips. "Yes, that was funny. What an adorable little pet. I can see why Sherlock keeps him around."
Moran carefully considered his reply, folding his arms. "You said you wanted one."
"What?"
"You said that you wanted a 'pet' like him. What did you mean?"
Moriarty turned around, grinning. "Why would I want a pet when I've got you, Moran? You're far more loyal than a slobbering dog."
Moran blinked; he didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. Such was the way with Moriarty. In one smooth motion Moriarty got to his feet, considering Moran's blank expression.
"No, you're much more entertaining than a pet," Moriarty continued in a low, seductive voice, a sly grin stretching his lips and sending heat pulsing through Moran's body all over again. "And unlike Sherlock and his darling John, I can fuck your brains out until you scream for mercy."
Moran shuddered pleasantly, his lips twitching in a smile.
"Does that sound like a good plan?" Moriarty smirked, pupils dilated just a bit.
Moran let his eyelids lower and slowly removed his jacket and gun rig, making sure his shirt stretched with his chest and shoulder muscles just the way Moriarty liked. Moriarty grinned and copied him, stepping close enough that their chests just bumped as he removed his jacket, tossing it to the ground carelessly.
"Care to play, Sebastian?" Moriarty murmured, leaning up on tiptoe to get closer.
Moran's eyes were glued to his lips, so close to his own. "Oh yes," He breathed, watching Moriarty's pupils blow wide at his response.
"Are you sure now?" Moriarty teased, his lips just a hair's breadth from Moran's, his warm breath setting Moran's cheeks and lips tingling. Moriarty's tongue slowly licked over his lips. They glistened agreeably and Moran felt his breath hitch, unable to take his eyes away from the lascivious sight.
"Yes," Moran whispered, raw need colouring his voice. His mouth was aching, and he was a second away from begging when Moriarty leaned even closer and oh-so-slowly trailed his tongue along Moran's lower lip. A shudder worked its way down his spine and he had to restrain himself from leaning forwards, taking Moriarty's wicked tongue in his mouth and stopping this slow, delicious torment. His mouth was open, saliva pooling in his throat, and he didn't care a bit.
"Did you like that, Sebastian?" Moriarty whispered, his lips just brushing against Moran's, each touch electrifying.
Moran swallowed thickly, and Moriarty's eyes darted down his throat, watching his Adam's apple bob. Moran knew what he was imagining and swallowed again, drawing out the motion, his breath ghosting over Moriarty's cheek in a silent laugh. Moriarty's lips parted wider in desire, his breathing a little louder. This close they could smell each other's aftershave, one spicy and the other smoky. Moriarty's breath was like mint, and Moran breathed in deeply through his nose, closing his eyes briefly. This teasing was one of his favourite things about being with Moriarty, but he knew the time was coming when one of them would break, and then things would really get intense.
"Sure you're ready to play, Jim?" Moran murmured, his voice just above a growl, his throat humming and drawing Moriarty's gaze again.
"You tease," Moriarty grinned and took Moran's wet lower lip in his teeth, nipping at the sensitive skin with his sharp teeth, drawing blood and sucking it up. Moran gasped sharply and almost pressed down but knew better. His hands shook with the urge to pull Moriarty closer and explore his body again and rip those tight-fitting clothes right off him. He settled for daring to press his tongue to Moriarty's lip, teasing him right back.
Moriarty chuckled and gave in, crushing their lips together and sweeping his tongue through Moran's mouth. Moran groaned softly and kissed him back eagerly, his lips burning with the heat of the kiss and the tang of his own bloody lip. The kiss soon became furious, both of them biting and gnawing on the other's lips, tongues sliding along each other. Moriarty buried his hands in Moran's hair, pulling his head down to kiss him harder. Moran sucked on his lip in return, making him shiver.
No thoughts passed through his mind, only the vague satisfaction that Hooper hadn't kissed him like this, that he was enjoying this more. He could feel Moriarty's erection pressing into his upper thigh, making him feel dizzy with lust.
"Jim," He whispered raggedly as their lips parted to allow them to breathe.
"Yes, Sebastian?" Moriarty murmured, tongue darting out to catch a droplet of blood from his lip.
"I want to touch you," Moran breathed, eyes almost closed. He held Moriarty's gaze, eyes burning bright. "I want my hands all over you. I want you pressed against me. Let me touch you."
Moriarty kissed him hard for a few moments, almost viciously, before nodding with a grin. "Go on then. Permission granted, Colonel."
Moran wasted no time and wrapped his arms around Moriarty's waist, pulling his body flush and letting his hands roam over the back he had been admiring all day. He groaned into Moriarty's mouth as their erections pressed hard against each other, hips grinding up into each other. Moriarty chewed on his tongue wickedly, bucking his hips to slide just so, teasing little gasps from Moran's throat. His fingers dug in and scrabbled at his shirt, panting just a bit.
"Ohh, you're desperate for it, aren't you," Moriarty crooned into his neck. Moran made a startled sound that quickly turned to one of pleasure as one of Moriarty's hands skimmed down his back to grab his arse, grinding him closer. "Has it really been so long since we last played together, Seb?"
"Far too long," Moran groaned, impatiently tugging Moriarty's shirt out of his waistband and running his hands up over his bare back.
"Maybe I should leave you alone for a few weeks again," Moriarty grinned. "If it makes you this desperate the next time." He leaned up and bit down sharply on Moran's earlobe. Moran's nails dug into his back reflexively, pulling him closer and scratching down his back, sure to leave a mark in the morning. He was lucky there wasn't any blood.
Moriarty chuckled and chewed just a little, arching his back in silent permission. Moran obliged and dug his nails deeper, clawing down from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, a slight grunt from Moriarty telling him that there was going to be blood on the shirt very soon. Moriarty chuckled and dipped his head down to suck on the V of flesh at Moran's unbuttoned collar, clearly having been fantasising about doing so by how much he sucked on the skin. A brief, sane thought crossed his mind: if he walked out into the street with a bleeding neck and lip he was going to be rather conspicuous, which was very bad for his job.
"Jim," He groaned reproachfully.
"What?" Moriarty murmured into his neck. "You'll have a bruised lip and ear, what's another mark? You can always say you were mugged, now stop fussing."
Moran was distracted from replying by Jim fairly ripping his shirt open, popping at least one button in his haste to get to the former colonel's muscular chest. Moran reached down and firmly grabbed Jim's arse in both hands, pulling him up to grind their hips together; they both groaned, throbbing with desire.
"Bed?" Moran gasped urgently.
"Floor," Jim corrected him. "Bed's too far." So saying, he used an old wrestling trick to send them both crashing to the floor, Moran landing with a grunt of pain right on his back, Jim above him. "Oh shush, that was nothing," Jim scolded him playfully.
Moran didn't reply, simply yanked Jim's now-bloodied shirt off him and ran his hands over his back, coating his palms with sticky blood and grinning darkly. Jim grinned and started attacking his belt and trousers, shoving them down impatiently. Moran barked out a short laugh – he was still wearing the fluorescent green designer boxers. He kicked off his boots, sending the stiletto knife flying across the room. Jim raised an eyebrow laconically and Moran shrugged, reaching down to run his hands over the boxers, grinning as he smeared blood on them.
"Hey!" Jim snapped. Moran dropped his hands immediately, knowing he had crossed a line. And didn't it just make him harder.
"Right, for that, no more touching for you, Sebastian," He said angrily, grabbing his tie off the floor and quickly binding Moran's wrists and forearms together. Moran scowled and fought him just enough to let him know he was serious, then relented and raised his bound arms back over his head, arching his back and smirking. Jim smiled slowly, his anger subsiding as he surveyed the way it made Sebastian's chest muscles stretch pleasingly, seemingly straining under his skin. "That's better."
Jim quickly stripped them down, settling for shoving their trousers down enough to kick away. Moran arched and squirmed against him, grinning as Jim expertly unsheathed the knives, placing them within arms' reach; he knew Moran would have fought him if they weren't close. He shoved the gun rig into the pile as well, and Moran responded by raising his hips and spreading his legs around Jim's.
Jim fumbled with their underwear, pressing his mouth hard against Moran's, cutting the inside of his lip against his incisors. They didn't spare a thought for lubricant – Jim was slick with anticipation and anyway, a little pain was nothing. Jim grinned and smoothly pushed deep into Moran, grinning wider as Moran closed his eyes and loudly groaned something that sounded like "fuck yes".
Jim thrust into him hard and deep, his other hand clenched tight around Moran's cock, pumping furiously. Moran wanted to dig his nails into Jim's back again but had to settle for clutching at the carpet, arching his back and tightening himself around Jim, rewarded by the criminal's moan of delight. This was what he needed, what he craved, he needed Jim hilt-deep inside his body and concentrating only on him, thinking only about his body and the feeling of fucking him into oblivion.
Moran panted for breath, sweat glistening on his skin and blood trickling down his throat from his split and bleeding lips. Jim pounded into him as hard as he could, a manic little laugh bubbling from his lips, teasing Moran ever closer to sweet release, purposefully missing that delicate spot deep inside him that ached to be hit, that would send him over the edge.
"You know what I want," Jim laughed breathlessly as Moran raised his hips higher, trying to pull Jim deeper inside him. "Do it, and I'll finish you off."
Moran cracked his eyes open enough to meet Jim's over-bright gaze, a slight blush on his cheeks as he spoke, "Fuck me, Jim. Just fuck me…"
"No, that's not it," Jim said, not letting up his furious pace but not going letting Moran release, either.
Moran bit his lip hard enough to draw more blood, his cheeks flushing red. He didn't like doing it, but fuck it he was too close to release to care. He tossed his head back and moaned as loudly as he could, voice rough with need and sore from over-use. "Please," He groaned, much louder than normal, raw with desperation.
Jim laughed and, true to his word, thrust right into the bundle of sensitive nerves inside Moran. Moran's voice cracked mid-groan and his hips bucked frantically, white-hot pleasure burning through his body and finally letting him go. His body shook as he rode out the shockwaves, feeling Jim push in even deeper and hiss with pleasure, hot liquid shooting deep into him.
They panted breathlessly, muscles twitching. Jim lowered Moran's hips down to the floor and rested his weight on his forearms either side of Moran's chest.
"Why do you always make me do that?" Moran asked, blushing again in mortification when they had calmed their frantic heartbeats. He hated blushing. He wasn't a schoolgirl, for fuck's sake.
Jim chuckled and wiped his cum-spattered hand over Moran's chest. "You're always so silent, Seb," He grinned. "I like hearing you cry out."
"How very romantic," A cool female voice commented from the doorway. Moran immediately grabbed a gun from the floor and aimed it over Jim's shoulder in a reflex honed by his time in Afghanistan, only marginally hampered by his bound wrists. The move caused them to sit up, Jim still firmly wedged inside him.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Go away, Irene. Daddy's having fun."
"I can see that," Irene Adler replied with a smirk, taking a seat just to the side of them. Moran kept his gun aimed coolly at her head, battling the urge to pull the trigger on this woman who dared intrude, who dared interrupt what was supposed to have been a night just for him and Jim, for the first time in far too long.
"No one invited you to the party, go away," Jim said, kissing down Moran's blood-streaked throat and not even deigning to look her way. Moran's lips twitched, the only visible sign of his distraction. His eyes were coldly furious, boring into Adler. It was taking all his will not to pull the trigger.
"You can put the gun away, Colonel," She said calmly, making no secret of the fact she was surveying their naked bodies appreciatively. "I've only got my riding crop with me, and as much as I suspect you might enjoy that, it's really no threat to either of you."
The barrel didn't waver and his eye twitched minutely.
"You're such a bore, Irene," Jim sighed. "He only takes orders from me."
"Again, I can see that," She smirked. "I heard that, in fact. I'm sure half of London heard that." Moran narrowed his eyes at her.
"How did you get here, anyway?" Jim asked, sounding bored. "And what do you want, now you've rudely interrupted."
"Oh it was simple," She replied with a smile. "I made myself known to your cleaner. She's very easy to please, poor neglected girl. Virgin, you know, or at least she was. I thought she was your bit on the side, but obviously that position is saved for someone with a bit more… spunk."
"You subverted my cleaning staff?" Jim asked, sounding just a bit annoyed. "How rude."
She smiled blithely. "I came here to collect that money. For seducing Sherlock."
"Payment afterwards, you know that," Jim said, looking over his shoulder to scowl at her. "Why are you really here?"
"Insurance," She smirked. "I took that threat about skinning me seriously, and decided to come here and collect a little bit of protection. I was only looking for a location, not for something this juicy." She got out her phone and waved it at them. Moran's scowl deepened.
"So you've got a couple of dirty pictures, so what," Jim said, sounding more annoyed than angry. He gnawed gently on Moran's mauled earlobe, making him shiver. "It's a free country, I can shag whoever I like."
"Oh, I'm sure it won't damage you, James," She said, watching with a smirk. "But if any potential clients found out you were so personally involved with your employer, Colonel, I'm sure they'd think twice about hiring you. Terribly unprofessional, you know. And believe me, I have fingers in more pies than you can imagine. I could make sure no one ever hired you again."
Jim stopped gnawing and looked at her seriously. Moran let no expression cross his face but calmly flicked the safety off the pistol. Silence reigned for a second, the air tense.
"Alright, you've made your point," Jim said coldly, glaring at her. "Get out."
She did so in her own good time, eyes raking over their entwined bodies. "See you around, boys."
Moran kept his gun aimed and ready until he heard the door close and a car drive away. Then he slowly lowered it to the floor, putting the safety back on.
"Don't worry about her," Jim said after a few moments, gently licking his bloodied ear. "She's easily taken care of. I've got some 'insurance' of my own. She's no threat."
Moran was just a little flattered that Jim cared enough to want to protect him. Almost shyly Moran pressed their lips together, ignoring the pain of his already-bruising mouth as he kissed Jim. Jim smiled and kissed him back with a slow heat, stroking down his sides. Moran looped his bound arms around Jim's neck, smiling. As they kissed he became aware of the aches and soreness all over his body from the hard fucking he'd received, not discounting the carpet-rash he could feel burning on his shoulder blades, and he revelled in it. It was the best kind of pain.
"Thank you, Jim," He said softly, little more than a croak from his abused larynx.
Jim smirked into his mouth. "Well, of course I want to protect the best bloody shag I've had."
Moran raised an eyebrow sternly. "Thanks," He said again, sarcastically and just a little hurt.
"Oh don't be such a girly wuss, Seb," Jim laughed. "I'm only joking with you." His expression became more serious and he rubbed the tip of his nose against Sebastian's. "You're mine. Mine to have, mine to protect."
Moran pushed away the question that nagged him, the question of whether he was the only one for Jim Moriarty. This moment was good enough. This night, where it was only them and pure pleasure, he could feel secure in the knowledge that Jim was thinking of nobody else.
Jim chuckled and pushed him down to the floor again, hooking Moran's legs up around his hips. Moran smiled, feeling rather like a captive tied to a pole, about to be carried off. "Enough serious talk. The night's still young, you know."
Moran shivered at the dark glint in Jim's eyes and teasingly ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them and swallowing the blood in his mouth. Jim's pupils began to dilate again, and Moran gasped softly as he felt, deep inside him, that Jim was getting hard again, filling up his inner space. It was a remarkable sensation, one that sent pleasure quivering through him again.
"Ohh yes, Seb," Jim laughed, the vibrations of his laughter shuddering within Moran, sparking heat in his blood again. "I'm not done with you yet, not by a long way."
Already several miles away, Irene Adler smirked to herself as she flicked through the explicit photos she had taken, wondering what was best to do with them. They only had limited value as insurance – she was well aware of Moriarty's protection against her – and the fun had been more in surprising Moriarty and the Colonel at such an intimate time. She flicked through her mental contacts, wondering who would pay the most for this potential blackmail material against the greatest criminal the world had ever seen. Who would benefit the most…
She grinned wolfishly.
His nemesis, of course. How perfect.
Hope you enjoyed :) I am planning on continuing this, so watch for a chapter 3.
If you'd take a moment to leave a review, I'd really appreciate it.
See you next chapter~