Smut smut smuuuut! All the smut. Just a heads-up. Happy New Year.
Stitches
Sebastian limped out of the alleyway. He could feel the blood from the deep cut on his back soaking through his t-shirt underneath his leather jacket. He needed stitches, he knew already. The bastard who cut him better not have sliced into his tiger tattoo, or there would be hell to pay. Then again, the bastard was already dead. Jim, who usually saw to his wounds or arranged for them to get taken care of discretely, was in Rome today chatting with some cardinals. There was a clinic not far from here—Sebastian reckoned he could walk in and get patched up without much fuss if he tossed enough money at them.
John had buried himself in his work ever since the ordeal with Sebastian Moran the Traitor and Heart-Crusher two weeks ago. Underneath all of John's anger and hatred for the man, however, he still felt wounded, and there was a fragment of hope still lurking there against John's will. Why had Sebastian let him go? John found himself foolishly hoping, against all odds or logic, that Sebastian really was a decent man, that he really did like John.
He had gotten increasingly burying these thoughts as the days went on, and Sebastian wasn't on his mind at all as he hurried down the hallway of the clinic to the room where a man who needed stitches was waiting. John pulled on some gloves as he opened the door.
"All right, Mr. Weston, we'll get you fixed…up…" John's words died as he found himself staring at Sebastian Moran. He was seated on the medical table, shirt removed, and a nurse was applying pressure to the wound on his back.
"Thank you, Stephanie, I'll take it from here," John finally managed faintly, ad the nurse nodded and headed out, leaving the two of them to stare at each other in shock.
Sebastian had tensed every muscle when John walked in. What were teh fucking odds? He glanced toward his folded-up jacket on the chair, where his gun was tucked away. "John—" he finally managed, in way of terse acknowledgement.
John clenched his jaw. "Mr. Weston, could you please lay on your stomach?" He couldn't acknowledge that Sebastian Moran was here. He would just pretend it wasn't happening, pretend that he hadn't spent the past two week trying to get over this stupid man.
Sebastian watched him carefully, then did as he was told, baring his muscled back, the long knife wound, and his large tiger tattoo. "Did you tell Sherlock?" he asked.
John's jaw stayed taut and he swallowed as he looked down at the tattoo. He wanted to run his hand along it, but instead, he went to get the needle ready. The wound had already been cleaned. He ignored Sebastian's question. "What happened? This is a nasty wound." John knew perfectly well how Sebastian had gotten such a deep slice. A sharp knife and a broad slash, but John preferred to feign ignorance.
Sebastian craned his neck to glare up at John. "The guy I was supposed to kill put up a fight. But I got him in the end. People never get away from me," he said meaningfully. "So there you have it, John. I kill people for a living. Recoil in horror now." He flexed the muscles in his back, not looking forward to being stitched up by someone who hated him.
John let out a small huff of air though his nose. "After seeing who you worked for, I figured out fairly quickly what your 'bodyguarding' entails. Any recoiling was taken care of a while ago. This is going to sting a bit." John hovered the curved needle above Sebastian's gash, a nasty part of him wanting to careless gouge the needle in and make Sebastian hurt through it all. The rational, doctor part of him wouldn't let his emotions obstruct the ethics of the job, however. He carefully and precisely began to stitch the other man up.
Sebastian tensed as the needle went in, but relaxed a bit as he felt John workig quickly and with minimal pain. The man knew what he was doing, he could feel that much. "You never answered my question, John Watson. Did you tell Sherlock about Jim? About me?"
"Seventeen stitches and I'm only halfway done...you should really be more careful. This will need time to mend. Clean it twice a day for a week, once a day for a week after that and in about three weeks, come back here and I'll check to make sure they're ready to come out." If he was even alive that long, that was.
Sebastian snapped, ignoring the pain as he twisted over to face John and yanked him down by his tie. "Did you tell him?!" He could feel the other man's breath against his face. He twisted the tie a bit, choking him. He was furious with John all the more because, in some other world, this could've worked. They could've—fuck it, it was no use thinking about what could have been. He shoved away the wishful thinking and waited for John's answer.
John's eyes went wide and he choked in surprise and his voice was strained and rough as he gasped, "No!"
Sebastian released him, then sat up, pulling at his stitches, which were only halfway done. "Good. I'm glad to know that you're not an idiot." He got up, furious, unable to stand lying underneath John's hands any longer. He'd go somewhere else to get stitched up. "You can drive a man crazy, you know that?" he said as he grabbed his shirt off the chair. Both of the men flinched, remembering the last time Sebastian had said that, breathing into John's skin with lust.
John was doubled over, coughing and gasping in air, a hand at his throat. He glared at Sebastian as he slowly straightened up, his chest still heaving. "I know." He watched his back for a moment. "You should let me finish stitching that up."
Sebastian dropped his shirt back on the chair, whirled around, and grabbed John's shoulders. "And then what? And then what, John? You'll let me go my separate way? You'll let me go back to my boss, and we'll just...keep out of each other's lives?" Could he live with that? He still wanted John, despite everything. Somehow, knowing that he was the enemy made him want him even more.
John faltered. "I...I don't know...yes! We just—we stop! We just stay off each other's radar! We go our separate ways..." he trailed off, knowing it was a shite plan. Their "separate ways" would inevitably lead back together at some point in the future, seeing how intertwined Moriarty and Sherlock's ambitions were.
"Could you live with yourself, John? Knowing you'd let a killer go? Knowing that you could've stopped Moriarty from hurting your do-good detective?" He imagined that the only reason why he hadn't told Sherlock yet was out of fear, and that would eventually wear off. They'd find a way, and then they'd come after Jim, and there would be deaths. He stepped closer to John.
John almost yelled at him, "I'm sick of being strung along—if you're just going to kill me in the end to save Moriarty's neck, then just do it." For God's sake, John would almost welcome death! Between his feelings for Sebastian, his loyalty to Sherlock, and his loathing for Moriarty, he didn't know what to do or where he stood and it was infuriating, maddening.
Sebastian seized him by the throat and shoved him up against the wall. "I should, you know!" Why had he chosen this clinic? Why hadn't he shot John immediately back at the den? It would make everything so fucking simple.
The shorter man was gasping and grappling at Sebastian's hand, trying to pry him off, his blue eyes wide and desperate. Sebastian eased up his hand slightly, allowing John some breath as he pressed into him. He felt a small, sly current of electricity run through him at being in such close proximity to John again, and he hardly knew what he was doing when he leaned in and kissed him forcefully, hungrily pushing his tongue into his mouth as John let out a gasp of surprise.
John let out a soft cry of protest and alarm as Sebastian pushed in to kiss him, but the moment Sebastian's tongue found its way into John's mouth, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and John was kissing Sebastian back, pressing into the other man's hand, which was still around his throat. He let out a soft, desperate moan against Sebastian's lips and bit down on the lower one, drawing it out.
"We can't do this, John," Sebastian said, even as he grabbed at John's hair, his lips never straying far from John's. He wanted to devour this man right here in the office.
"You're right, we can't," John said breathlessly, licking up Sebastian's neck.
Sebastian closed his eyes and tightened his fingers in John's hair. This was so wrong. Fooling around unexpectedly with his enemy, in a doctor's office no less; it was turning him on it ways it shouldn't, and from the feel of John pressed against him, he wasn't the only one.
"Ahh, but you give yourself away, doctor," he growled, letting his hand brush over John's erection. "You are in to danger, aren't you?" He began palming and fondling him through his trousers.
John gasped, his heart speeding up, and he pushed his hips forward into Sebastian's hand. "Nghh—yes," he panted. "And you apparently have a doctor kink." John tilted his head back, lips parted, and he grabbed Sebastian's hips to yank him closer. Sebastian pulled backwards, taking John with him towards the patient's counter. He hauled John up so he was sitting on the counter, then yanked on John's tie to pull him in for another kiss. "Shut up," he growled, his hands rubbing along John's thighs.
John's hands slid over Sebastian's bare back, making sure to avoid the new stitches and pulled him closer to him. One of his hands went down and began to grope at Sebastian's hard cock.
Sebastian grunted at the feel of John's hand. He wanted to fuck John right now, but they were hardly in a position or a place for it. Too many clothes, not enough time. He began ripping at his own belt, still kissing John. "Touch me," he ordered, then began yanking at John's belt and fly. Hardly ideal, but he was so worked up he didn't care. He needed some sort of release.
John didn't hesitate before sliding his hand down Sebastian's trousers to grab at his cock, feeling its length in curiosity before he started pumping at it, leaning in to kiss him again.
Sebastian groaned into John's mouth, then bit at John's tongue and lips, sliding his hand inside John's pants and grasping at his cock, massaging it, palming his balls, then began pumping as well, his hand rough, his thumb running over the head. "Touch the wound," he demanded into John's mouth. "Dig your nails into it—" As he said it, he dug the nails of his own free hand into John's thigh. "You want to, don't you?"
John grunted and reached his hand around as he continued to pump. He gave his balls a light squeeze before he dug his nails into the man's stab wound.
Sebastian hissed in pain and arousal at the combination of the searing wound and John's hand on his cock. He bit down hard on John neck as he increased the speed of his hand, gripping at John's arse to pulling him closer. "God, yes—" he grunted, close to orgasm already.
John pulled Sebastian's head up to kiss him once more, then pushed him backwards a bit, allowing John room to hop off the examination table and sink to his knees. He pulled Sebastian's cock from his trousers and leaned forward to suck in as much of Sebastian as he could manage, moaning around it and grabbing onto Sebastian's arse.
The sight and feeling of John's, his date's, his enemy's, his doctor's, warm mouth engulfing him was too much. He bit back a loud groan and tangled his hands in John's hair.
John had only given head a few times before in his life, so he hoped it wasn't going to put Sebastian off. His let his tongue glide over his prick, doing sinful things to the underside of his cock, all the while grabbing and kneading his arse.
Sebastian twisted his hands harder into John's hair. Pleasure volted through him. "John—I'm coming," he moaned, giving John time to pull away. He came with a loud groan, shooting onto the floor as John rose next to him.
Sebastian leaned weakly against the table. "I wasn't expecting that," he admitted breathlessly, then grabbed John's jaw and pulled him in for another rough kiss. "Tell you what...you patch me up, doc, and I'll be sure you're properly rewarded."
John raised an eyebrow, his cock aching. "Oh...is that so...? And how are planning on rewarding me?" he asked a bit breathily, wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck.
Sebastian kept a grip on John's chin, then reached a hand up to yank painfully at his hair. "Do you always need things spelled out for you, John?" He licked up the side of John's face, relishing how John hissed in a breath, then Sebastian settled himself back onto the examination table. "Now patch me up, like a good doctor."
John picked up the needle and thread from where they had been torn off by the other man, and started up where he had left off, his hands a trifle less steady.
Sebastian smiled into the table, still unable to believe that this was really happening. "Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you? Actually, maybe I shouldn't tell you. I don't want your hands trembling while you're working on me. Unless you're a very good doctor and think you could handle it."
'I'm an excellent, doctor, I assure you...' John mumbled as he tried to concentrate. He had never tried giving stitches with a raging hard-on before. His stitches were still nice, but slightly less even than they had been ten minutes before.
"I'm going to sneak up on you, John. Catch you off guard. I will sniff you out like prey and then I will own you. And the best part is, you'll beg me to." Sebastian smirked and flexed his hips a bit at the thought. His voice changed from a smoldering menace to a more conversational tone, then back again. "I'll be honest, I haven't worked out the details yet...but I can guarantee that you'll be utterly helpless, and that you'll be screaming my name for a long, long time as you slowly unravel into a hot, sweaty mess."
John faltered a bit, finding the thought of Sebastian hunting and stalking him like some sort of prey oddly and surprisingly arousing. His heart hammered. He had no doubt that Sebastian's would make good of his word. "Ah...I see—" he managed, trying to keep his voice as even as his stitches.
"How am I patching, doctor?" Sebastian wickedly changed the subject.
"Er, fine. They look fine." John knotted off the final one. "All finished."
Sebastian rolled to his side and stood up. He felt at the stitches with his hand. "Fine work, doc. I should come to you more often." He pulled on his shirt, wincing as he did so. The blood on it had congealed unpleasantly. Good thing it was dark enough that you couldn't see the stain unless you were close. He looked pointedly at the mess he'd made on the floor. "Looks like you have a situation to take care of." His eyes flicked to John's erection and he grinned. "Make that two." Sebsatian gingerly pulled on his jacket and walked to the door. "Oh, and John," he added lightly. "Tell Sherlock about any of this, and I will kill you."
He left, whistling. Oh, this was very interesting. What the fuck had he just done? Still...they could keep it quiet...their two geniuses need never know. Two geniuses. Fuck. He shoved the thought out of his head and turned his thoughts instead to all of the things he wanted to do to John Watson.
John was left in a hot, flustered mess. He cleaned up the floor, then hurried back to his office, locked the door, and took care of his problem into a tissue behind his desk, making him five minutes late for his next appointment. The rest of his day felt surreal, and John went through the rest of work distracted, conflicted, and completely infatuated with the thought of seeing the impossible, dangerous, irresistible Sebastian again.
