"Nope. Fuck this. No tie," Sebastian muttered, tossing the rip-away tie into the bin. It was red, decorated with candy canes. He loathed it. "It's a Christmas party. Everyone will be wasted anyway. I refuse to wear bloody sweets. "
"Oh, don't be a baby," Lorna scolded, throwing a real candy cane at him. She was dressed already in a flattering, classy red dress that showed off her curves well, but she was fiddling with her makeup. "Wear that in your pocket. We don't need people saying we don't have spirit."
"I don't have spirit. I have zero spirit. The only possible use I can see for one of these is to sever someone's carotid," he muttered, tucking it into his pocket anyway.
"I'm not even sure what that is," she laughed, turning off the light by the mirror with a resolution that if she didn't stop fiddling she'd die. "But either way, it's not about what we personally have. Our personas, on the other hand..."
"Yes, well, jolly is a little difficult to fake," he muttered. "And the carotid is the artery in your throat." He walked over to her. "Can't our personas loathe the holidays as well?"
"Not if we want to get invited to other parties. Okay, you can be curmudgeonly about the holidays, but you're going to have to suffer through my forced holiday spirit with a smile. Just get drunk, no one will notice the difference."
"Good," he said with a grunt, heading for the door. "I think you forget sometimes that I'm not a grifter. Keira," he called, louder. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready," Keira grumbled, appearing from her room looking very uncomfortable in an ugly holiday sweater.
"Christ, the two of you," Lorna rolled her eyes, passing the both of them, "Let's go. And behave, will you?"
"No," they both said at once, following after her. Moran hid a smirk, and glanced over at the kid. She was entertaining sometimes.
Lorna made an exasperated sound, trotting down the stairs in her heels as well as if she were barefoot. "Christ, like one of you wasn't enough. Don't make me use my stern voice in company. I will use it."
"All these threats," Sebastian chuckled, stepping up behind her and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder. "If I behave, I don't get to have a that fun with you I promised."
"Ew, could you guys not? I don't want to know about your freaky sex life," Keira complained, shouldering past them to the door. Lorna chuckled, reaching for his hand and briefly squeezing it.
"That's not the kind of behaving I meant."
He grinned, heading toward the car and dropping her hand to go around to the driver's side.
"Our sex life isn't freaky. Do you think our sex life is freaky, Lorna?"
"Freaky hot, maybe," she laughed, getting into the passenger side while Keira got in the back. "Sex is sex."
He nodded in agreement, grinning a bit to himself as Keira groaned and thumped her head back against the seat.
"Alright, let's go endure misery."
"So dramatic," she snorted, rolling her eyes, then sat back and fell into silence. The party wouldn't be fun, but that was fine. She had Sebastian.
They arrived about forty minutes late, which was fine, and left the car with a chauffeur that balked at Sebastian's appearance and did a double-take at Lorna's. He ignored him, though he was tempted to rip out his eyeballs, and with that mindset, entered the party. He headed directly for the bar.
Lorna followed right on his heels, fighting back a sunken feeling in her stomach from the way the valet had looked at her. She needed a little bit of a boost. She ordered a neat scotch, leaning against the bar next to Sebastian, and turning to apologize as she bumped into the person behind her. "Sorry abo- Jim?"
"Hello. Oh, scotch. Lovely." He reached out and took the drink out of her hand, taking a sip. "Long time, no see. That's a thing people say, isn't it? Idiots, always stating the obvious."
"Jesus," she muttered, turning to signal the bartender for another. Keira stood just behind her, looking with wide eyes at Jim. "Don't stare, kid, your eyes are going to fall out of your sockets."
"Jim, this is Keira, my... cousin. Keira, this is James Moriarty. You will call him sir, and you will indicate just how much you value your torture-free existence by the amount of respect you choose to employ when addressing him."
Keira just gave a bit of a frightened nod, ducking her head towards Jim. Lorna thought that it was probably best she didn't speak. She wasn't fantastic with tact. "To what do we owe the visit, boss?" Lorna asked, voice quiet, in case anybody tried to eavesdrop in the loud room.
"Coincidence," Jim said calmly, taking another sip of his scotch as he studied Keira in amused interest. It was clear she was Moran's daughter, the similarities were incredible. "And I wanted to see the tiger cub for myself. See if she had stripes like daddy."
Keira gave Sebastian a very clear WTF look, increasingly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and somehow increasingly confused. Harrison took a sip from her new scotch, eyes still on Jim, her instinct to keep the most dangerous person in the room at her front, not her back. "She's certainly got his mouth, that's for sure."
"Have you kissed her as well, Harrison? Or are you referring to Moran's seemingly unnecessary reminder to be polite?" he asked with a smirk, walking forward and reaching out to grab Keira's chin, tilting her head from side to side as if inspecting her, just to see what she'd do. "Not that he's followed his own advice a day in his life..."
"I'm plenty respectful, boss. It's just that sometimes it's necessary to be otherwise," Sebastian said with a small grin into his drink.
Lorna didn't bother rising to his bait, just rolling her eyes. Keira put up with his grasp on her chin for about three seconds before yanking back out of it, her jaw clenched tight, eyes fiery. "I don't like people grabbing me, thanks," she growled. "Stop."
Lorna laughed. "Kid, what you don't put up with with other people, you let the boss do. He owns your ass. And my ass, and Moran's ass. The sooner you get used to that, the better."
Jim smirked. "Second one, I see, Harrison. Look how indignant she is. It's adorable. It's like she doesn't understand that I could have Moran field gut her from the bar light right now, if I wanted. Bit spectacular though. Maybe I'll just have him take an eye. Make it look like more of an accident with an olive fork."
That made her clam up real quick, taking a step back out of reflex, eyes darting anxiously to her father and then back to the boss. Lorna smirked into her drink. She always found it amusing watching Jim exert his power over other people. Probably because it had happened so often to her. Nowadays, she was just a smidgen safer than other people. Not much, but enough to inspire a certain elite confidence about being useful, and having fucked him. As long as she kept clear off the line, she was good. "Christ, she looks like she could use a drink. What do you want, Keira? Shirley Temple, maybe?"
Moran laughed as she looked at him, half afraid he was already wielding an olive fork, half a plea for help. "I warned you," was all he said, shrugging.
"He did," Jim agreed. "Do you like those stripes on his face? I put them there. And the JM, directly over his precious little thumper, is mine as well. I own him, in every sense of the word." His accent was growing a bit thicker, eyes alight as he stared down his prey. "Don't expect help from him because he's your father. He wouldn't think twice about killing you on my lightest whim. I am the one and only person who controls him, and therefore you. Do try to remember that the next time you're sniveling."
"I just take him out on lease," Lorna said sarcastically, taking a big swig from her drink. Her face didn't change, her voice didn't change, but her fingers tightened imperceptibly on her glass. She hated the initials carved into his chest. They were a reminder that he wasn't really hers, that he could be yanked away like a puppet on a string at any second. Her smug mood evaporated, she turned as Keira cleared her throat uncomfortably, staring at her feet.
"I, um. Sorry."
Jim raised an eyebrow, but smirked. "She can be taught." He glanced over at Moran. "I'm here to make a couple of business deals. I don't want one of then going south, so do me a favor and lock your mini-me in a closet or something around nine."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sure thing, boss. Mind if I ask who...?"
Keeping herself under control enough to avoid Jim fucking Moriarty catching on wasn't easy, but she thought she managed it well enough. Jim wasn't even paying attention to her. "Your cub's old network, actually. I don't need them catching wind of her hanging off your arm and have them up in arms. A preemptive reminder of how much scarier I am than them will do just fine," Jim shrugged, his eyes sliding off of Sebastian to his offspring, judging her reaction.
"Understood, sir," he said with a nod, not bothering to glance at Keira- who was several shades paler than usual. He could deal with that later. "Anything else you need me for?"
"I'll let you know," he smirked, winking once. Lorna fought back a wave of jealousy.
He grinned, raising his scotch once in response. "Then if you don't mind, boss, my wife and I have some mingling to do."
"Go, have fun," he snorted, waving his hand and turning away. Lorna slipped her arm through Sebastian's, already beginning to pull him back into the crowd. Away from Jim.
He glanced at Keira, mouthing 'be good' before returning his attention to Lorna's insistent leading. "Are we late for something vital, or are you just practicing for a speed-walking competition?"
"Both. I hear speed-walking is good for the heart," she snorted, drinking from her glass as she weaved through the party goers. She didn't want to have the jealousy discussion again.
He glanced over at her, caught the look in her eyes, and sighed, deciding not to mention it. He'd half expected it, what with all of Jim's blustering. That didn't mean it wasn't an issue to be resolved at some point. He just needed to figure out how.
"Hanover should be around here somewhere," she sighed, scanning the crowd. Too many of them had on bright shades of red and green that hurt her eyes. "We shouldn't need to schmooze for too long. It's just a party. All we have to do is cement that we're interested in her campaign."
He nodded in agreement, scanning above the heads of the crowd easily. Lorna's vantage point was a tad bit... disadvantaged. "Got her," he said calmly. "Over by what seems to be another bar. Lots of those around here, it seems.'
"It's a holiday party filled with politicians. There needs to be a lot of drinks to keep the peace," she shrugged, giving him a little nudge. "Lead the way. Smile."
"I thought I was a Christmas grump. Remember?" he muttered, before giving the best smile he could without showing any teeth (it was more of a smirk) and heading over.
Hanover brightened as she saw the two of them approaching, waving them over with a hand holding a glass full of wine. "Hello, hello! How are you dears doing? I've heard quite the story about your little afternoon at the shooting gallery. You absolutely must show off for me sometime!"
His smile widened slightly into something almost natural. "It would be my pleasure. Some time after the holidays?"
"That would be wonderful. God knows we all have our obligations this time of year," Hanover laughed, sipping at her wine. "Family or politics. Not much difference, anyways."
He nodded in agreement, motioning the bartender over and asking for another scotch.
"How have you been, Lorna?" Hanover asked, taking another sip of wine.
"Great," she smiled, winding an arm through Sebastian's. "Sebastian's cousin has come to stay with us for a little while. It's nice having someone younger than me around, for a change!"
He laughed in agreement, turning to kiss the top of her head.
"Lovely. It's always nice to have family around for the holidays. Will you two be traveling or staying around here?"
"We'll probably stick around," she hummed, "We prefer to keep to ourselves come the holidays. Avoid the crowds, you know. Immigrants, the like."
"Oh, I feel the same way," she agrees enthusiastically, then smiles. "Is this your first holiday season together?"
"No, we've had a couple already, but this will be our first one as a married pair," she smiled, leaning into Sebastian. She almost, almost, wished it were true. But that was dangerously foolish thinking. He might have killed her if he knew.
"That's so lovely," Hanover trilled, looking nauseatingly thrilled. "How did you two meet?"
Sebastian let out a bit of a dark chuckle, but left the storytelling to Lorna.
She let out a bit of a nervous laugh, eyes casting around the room for a moment before landing back on the drink in front of her. "Not exactly at a party. I come from a fairly wealthy family. It's nothing to brag about, really, but it was enough to attract a kidnapping. Sebastian was the one who rescued me."
Hanover's eyes rounded into saucers, and she appeared delighted. "Oh, but that's a story I must hear... How exciting!"
Lorna gave an uncomfortable smile. "It's not all that exciting, really. I was held for about a week, tortured when my parents refused to pay the ransom. That's why I'm all scarred up."
"Oh, you poor dear," Hanover said sympathetically, reaching out a slightly unsteady hand on her arm. Moran watched her like a hawk. "But then your knight in shining armor came along, hmmm?"
"Yes," she smiled, leaning further into him, though it was probably only noticeable to him. "Have to love that military training. This is why I don't support de-funding them, you know. Terrible idea."
"I couldn't agree more," she tittered, taking a large sip of wine. "Speak softly and carry a big stick, as they say. Big sticks require funding!" She giggled.
God, what a tiring woman. She didn't know how the hell she was going to get away from this drunk old bat. "That they do, that they do," she hummed, looking up at Moran. Extricate us.
He smiled at her, catching the signal. "Darling, have you seen Keira around? I don't want to leave her to wander too long..."
Lorna turned a little, looking out into the crowd. "No, I haven't seen her for a while. We should probably go see what she's up to. It was nice to see you, Haley! We'll catch up soon, yeah?"
"You, too, dears! Absolutely. We must set up that shooting engagement. Here's my card," she said, handing it to Sebastian. "Call me, we'll work out a date."
"Okay! Ta!" She hummed, turning and leading Sebastian into the crowd without really looking for Keira.
"Still not sure if I like her or hate her," he said casually as they wove through the crowd.
"Like a drunk aunt at Christmas," she commented easily, finishing off her drink. She wasn't quite sure if this was her third or not.
"I imagine that's probably an accurate description," he agreed. He glanced at his watch. "We should actually find Keira, however. It's almost nine."
"Shit, really? I didn't think we'd been here for that long. Must be the booze. Whatever happened to the me that was an alcoholic? Where'd she go?" she muttered, starting to look around, then nudged him with her elbow. "Okay, I can't see shit, so..."
"The you that was an alcoholic will come round at any time if you keep that up," he muttered, taking her half-empty glass and setting it on a passing tray with a smirk as he continued looking for Keira.
"Oh, hush. I'm a fun drunk," she snorted, letting him tow her along. "It's silly that you're so much taller than me, honestly. What the hell is with that?"
"Actually, you're short, which is the issue here," he retorted, deadpan, as he scanned the crowd for Keira. "Where the hell did she get off to, anyway?"
"I don't know. You don't think she spotted someone she recognized and bolted?" she hedged, standing up on her tiptoes to try and peer through the crowd with more ease.
He let out a long-suffering sigh a few moments later. "Found her," he muttered, heading back towards the bar where they'd left her. Keira was sitting there with a beer in hand.
"Oh, wonderful. She's like me, too," Lorna chuckled, letting herself be pulled along, putting on a mock-serious face as they approached her. Keira didn't flinch.
"Hey, guys. You done schmoozing yet?"
"Mostly. Enjoying your drink?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's gross, to be completely honest. But I really don't want to be seen within two hundred feet of a maraschino cherry," she deadpanned in response, casting a derisive glance at the people surrounding her.
"Brilliant. I'll drink it," he smirked, walking over to pluck it out of her hand. "Your friends are showing up soon. Don't be an idiot."
"That's why I want it," she protested, reaching out for it with little hope of retrieving it. Lorna chuckled, leaning against Sebastian.
"Let the girl have a drink, you old coot. We'll duct tape her mouth shut if she starts to get tactless."
"Duct tape over the mouth works poorly in a crowded gala. And I am neither old, nor cootish," he muttered, though he handed the beer back after taking a sip.
She laughed, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw, which was about all she could reach when she was feeling tipsy. "I'm not the one who thinks my being younger than you is 'ridiculous,' but I'll let that go," she smirked. Keira made a gagging noise.
"Could you two be any less disgusting? Please?"
"Who thinks it's ridiculous?" he asked, looking down at her curiously, ignoring Keira and putting an arm around Lorna's waist.
"You!" She laughed again, shaking her head. "You ribbed me about it once. When I asked why, you said you couldn't explain it, it just was!"
"Well, obviously I do," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're closer in age to Keira than me, I think. It just sounded like you meant someone else."
"What? Now you're being ridiculous," she scoffed, putting a hand on her hip. "I'm more than a decade older than her. You're like, 7 years older than me, at the most."
"Details," he said with a smirk, amused at her rallying. He glanced across the crowd and saw Jim with a few grim-looking gentlemen. "Are those your friends?" he asked Keira, nodding towards the meeting.
"I only recognize one of them, and its dim recognition at best," she sighed, taking another sip from her beer with a grimace. "Probably knows me, though. That happens when you cause a ruckus."
"That is," he agreed with a sigh, glancing at her. "Should we leave, or do you think you're alright?"
Keira shifted a little, obviously thinking. "They wouldn't cause a fuss in public. Especially not in front of your boss," she said after a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. "I don't think we should go talk to them, though."
"Mmm... I agree with that completely," Moran muttered, rolling his eyes and considering another scotch. Instead, he reached out to wrap an arm around Lorna's waist again. "We're going back to mingling. Don't cause trouble."
"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes, turning back to the bar. Lorna smirked.
"You're not really initiating mingling, are you?"
"No," he said, leading her away. "But she's so much less annoying when she doesn't know I'm planning to fuck you."
She had to fight hard to hide the thrill that went up her spine. "Did you spot a promising alcove?"
"I was debating between the closet down the hall there, or just finding a table with a tablecloth and making your life interesting like I promised earlier. Any preferences?" he asked casually, like he was asking about what sort of toast he should make.
"I don't have the patience for a pre-planned fingering. Let's go see what the closet looks like," she decided, though continued to let him steer. She wasn't tall enough to have seen it earlier.
He smirked, chuckling slightly as he guided them through the crowd, his hand around her waist sliding over her hip subtly. "Fucking firecracker, you know that? Light you off and you need to bang almost instantly."
She laughed, shrugging a little. She was very conscious of his hand. "Patience has never been my strong suit. I think God knew I'd be too perfect otherwise."
"Yes. Thank goodness he made you humble, or you might have two strikes against you," he shot back, looking around for a moment before pulling her down a narrow back hallway used by the servers and opening what turned out to be a medium-sized storage closet. "Verdict?"
"Solid, as a hidey-hole for banging in public goes," she hummed, stepping in, lugging him behind her. "We can probably jam something against the door so it won't open. Unless you'd like to risk it."
"I don't know, I think a little risk is entertaining," he said, pushing the door shut with a smirk, dimming the lighting considerably. "Besides, if they catch us, it just cements our story of young and infatuated."
"What do you mean, story?" she teased, fingers curling into front of his shirt, pulling him over, grinning up at him. "I don't know about you, but I think I'm prreetttty infatuated."
"Wasn't it you saying something about me being old just a few moments ago? Or was that some other incredibly snarky woman?" he retorted, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck, his hands tracing around her waist.
"I'm only repeating what you've implied," she smirked, leaning into him. She knew that they likely had limited time in here, but she wasn't going to rush. Cover story, right?
"Right little parrot, you are," he murmured against her skin, tongue tracing the corner of the scar that he'd left across her neck, a hand slipping up under the hem of her skirt, tracing over her thigh.
"You should be flattered; I don't find it worth my time repeating anyone else," she breathed, pulling his shirt untucked from his trousers and beginning to unbutton it, slowly, with no particular hurry.
"I suppose I'll take what I can get," he sighed, shifting her dress up around her hips, taking the time to let his fingers appreciate every dip and curve of her skin.
She chuckled, fingers brushing the skin of his shoulders as she pushed his shirt half off, beginning a long slow drag of her nails down his chest, feeling every muscle shift and flex under her hands as she went. She couldn't believe how beautiful he was, sometimes. "Beggars can't be choosers, right?" she grinned.
"I would hardly call myself a beggar," he chuckled. "And I can be a chooser, that's why I have you..." he put a hand over hers on his chest, pressing her nails in harder as he stepped forward, backing her against the wall slowly.
"And you say my grifting lessons haven't taught you anything," she purred, hand slipping down to the button of his trousers, flicking them open to slip her hand inside. "Such a smooth talker for such a hard, dangerous man. In more ways than one, on the hard count."
"I was a smooth talker before I met you," he chuckled. "How the hell do you think I survived under Jim for so long? You just taught me how to make nice..." He ground against her hand slowly, his own pushing her panties down.
"Nice is one word for it." Her free hand scraped down his chest, digging in much harder as they caught on the JM, as if she could erase them herself, with nothing but her fingernails. He's mine, you crazy bastard. "I just taught you how to suck up to someone you've been having really fantastic sex with so the sex doesn't stop."
"The sex didn't stop when I almost slit your throat, deary." His low laugh thrummed into her skin, just below her ear, as his fingers shifted back up to slide over slick heat. "Don't think being rude's gonna stop it, d'you?"
She moaned, caught up for a second by him, grinding into his hand. "No," she breathed, sliding her hand out of his pants so she could just indelicately push them down, "But I think you had to do a little bit of sucking up to make up for leaving me in a pool of my own blood."
"It really was more of a puddle," he countered as he traced his tongue around the shell of her ear, circling his fingers around her clit before sliding back towards her entrance. He could feel a deep sting starting over Jim's initials on his chest. He was always startled by how much they bothered her.
"I was the one who woke up in it, I think I'd know," she retorted, though without much volume, just barely keeping herself from audibly breathing harder. She made herself stop digging her nails into him, in case she got distracted and did too much damage. She reciprocated with delicate fingers twisting around his length, thumb dragging over the head; she wanted to make him shiver.
His body curled forward slightly, and he let out a huff of breath as his abdomen tightened slightly in response to her touch. "Details," he muttered.
"Says the man who throws people down a flight of stairs if they don't include enough detail in their reports," she smirked, the hand that had been clawing his chest sliding up into his hair.
He pushed his fingers into her slowly, tracing the tips along her walls as he pulled his head back to yank against her grip with a moan before leaning in to kiss her, his tongue exploring the deeper regions of her mouth.
She could barely keep her heart from dancing its way out of her chest, fingers tightening further in his hair, kissing him with a feeling of lust-drunk. "Fuck me, won't you?" she gasped as they broke apart for air, hand slipping from his hair, down his cheek, finding a place cupping his jaw instead. "I don't think we have all day."
"Wish we did," he muttered. It was out of nowhere, and he decided to ignore the fact that he had said it, removing his fingers and reaching to shove his trousers a little further down his hips before he grabbed her waist and lifted her further up the wall, shifting until her legs are around his waist.
She wrapped an arm around his neck to help keep herself up, the other reaching between them to line them up. She bit into his shoulder, then, an obvious go sign. The longer they were in here, the more chance they had of being caught.
He pushed into her without another word, and any dregs of slowness were gone. He thrust into her firmly, trying to keep himself quiet for the sake of not being discovered, his teeth clenched.
Her free hand reached for the shelf to her right, sending a bottle of bleach flying as she tried to find a grip, arching off the wall into him, trying to keep herself just as silent; that was a battle in and of itself.
She moved and clenched around him, and he tilted his head back for a moment, pulling at the grip of her hand still in his hair, relishing the ache of it as he continued to move with her.
"Fuck," she gasped in a whisper, unable to keep entirely silent, using the leverage the shelf gave her to keep rhythm with him, a muted thumping coming from the wall behind her as he drove her into it. She got a savage sort of smugness knowing Jim was out there, conducting business; he never snuck away with Sebastian. He never got to have this.
He shifted his hands to grab her ass and pull her against him with more force. He'd been admiring that ass all day in her little dress, and he was eager to grab hold.
She muffled a cry into his shoulder as he went particularly deep, hand scrabbling uselessly for purchase on the shelf, clinging on tight in his hair. It was years ago now that they'd really even truly met, had formed a working relationship good enough to banter over. She'd been young and stupid then, but even still, she'd never dreamed of loving the living tank of a man that was Moriarty's personal bodyguard and chief of staff. This, though - fucking him in a broom closet - this she'd imagined. She'd wanted him to pick her up and nail her against the wall the instant she saw a genuine smile crack his stone face. Now here she was.
He reached up with one hand to grip her throat, pushing her head back against the wall. He was aware that there was more of a chance of her making noise if her face wasn't buried in his shoulder, but he didn't give a shit, his fingers in the soft flesh of her neck flicking on the switch in his animalistic side. He bared his teeth in a growl as he locked her gaze, his hips against hers rhythmic and powerful, muscles of his thighs and arse flexing with each movement.
"Fuck, fuck," she gasped, the past flying out of her head, all her focus centering on the pleasure in her core and the pressure at her neck, the urge to be marked by him returning, to be claimed visibly - but they couldn't leave with bite marks on their jaws and bruising around their necks, that would be too much to ignore. She clenched around him on purpose, retaliation for the hand on her neck, trying to drive him completely wild.
He let out a sharp snarl, and let go completely. The only restraint that remained was on his vocalizations, which he kept in check as he fucked her into the wall with unchecked abandon and power, fully intent on leaving her hobbling the next day.
At that point it was all she could do to just hang on and keep herself as quiet as possible, nails dragging across his back, leaving scrapes even through the shirt. She wasn't going to last much longer now, but god, how the fuck was she going to keep herself quiet?
He knew she was getting close, could see it on her face, feel the way she was clenching and twisting desperately against him. Instinct drove him as he released her throat, his hand shifting upwards to press over her mouth to muffle any noise.
She let out a cry into his hand as she came, arching up off the wall, fingers spasming against his shoulders, thighs squeezing his waist, her breathing labored and fast. Had he not been covering her mouth, she would have alerted the entire building.
He groaned as she came, biting into his own lip to keep himself from doing anything louder, his eyes fixed on her expression as he thrust a few more times before he came, as well, burying his face in her shoulder firmly to muffle what he couldn't suppress.
She clung to him as he came, still struggling for breath, shudders still running through her as she recovered. She had another moment of smugness towards Jim. That moment was erased when she wondered if he'd ever made Sebastian cum this hard.
He eventually stepped back and set her down, breaths coming short and stuttering. He held her close to his chest, leaning his head against the wall as he got his breath back.
Stop throwing a shitfit. You know he'd never get this close to Jim after sex.
I know. Shut up.
She caught her breath leaning against his chest, one arm draped around his shoulders, the other fisted in his unbuttoned shirt, her forehead against the sweat-cooled skin of his chest. "Good job keeping me quiet," she breathed, chuckling a little, "I don't think we'd be getting away with this if you hadn't."
"I know we wouldn't," he muttered. He chuckled, a hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out the decimated remains of the candy cane she'd placed there, still held together by cling plastic. "Whoops. There goes my holiday cheer. Tragic."
"You're so dramatic," she snickered, smoothing down the hem of her dress and stepping away to pick her panties up off the floor. She balled them up and pressed them into his candy-cane-free hand, grinning up at him. "Here, a replacement."
He grinned, tucking them into his pocket. "I think that's a decent replacement." He tossed the candy cane into the darkness of the storage closet and started fixing up his own clothes.
"Good," she hummed, leaning against the wall because she didn't yet entirely trust her legs to stand on their own. "Now, can we find Keira and leave, or are you going to want to hover over Jim because he has no visible security detail?"
"You noticed that, too, huh? He's a total idiot sometimes." He pulled on his jacket. "How about you take Keira and heading back, and I'll stay a little longer to keep an eye on him."
"And how are you going to get back? You going to ask him to drop you off? You know he'll make you walk," she retorted, trying not to seem like she was determined not to let Jim get him alone. She was already irritated he'd shown up out of the blue, interrupted her little passing fantasy. "You could use an extra set of eyes, anyway."
"I'll take a taxi, Harrison. Honestly. And I've watched Jim on my own plenty of times before. We need Keira out of here. She's a disaster waiting to happen." He tucked his shirt in.
A muscle in her jaw jumped in the dim light, but she nodded, turning for the door. "Fine, I'll take her back to the house. Don't get shot or anything stupid."
"I don't plan on it," he snorted, pushing the door open and stepping out into the light. He could tell she was pissed, but he didn't have time deal with it now. "Don't shoot Keira."
"I don't plan on it," she parroted back to him, giving him the tiniest hint of a smirk before turning and disappearing into the crowd, heading for the bar. She didn't need him getting defensive because he thought she was stewing about something. The hint of guilt that appeared at employing a strategy she used on marks, she swallowed.
He headed back across the room towards Jim where he was still talking with Keira's 'friends'. He nodded to him when the shorter man caught his eye, then stood by until he might be needed.
Jim cast a quick eye around the place, assessing where Moran's little family was before returning his attention back to the people in front of him, his simpering smile staying exactly the same. This little web wasn't very important to him, but if they held a grudge against Moran's progeny, it would become a problem.
Keira looked up when Harrison came walking over. "Hey," she said, raising a new bottle of beer.
"Hi. We're leaving. Moran will follow us home later. You can bring the beer," she rattled off, already heading for the door. "Keep up, please."
She stood, following Lorna as she speed-walked towards the door. "You sound less than thrilled with that arrangement," she said, glancing back at her father where he was standing, observing, quiet.
"I don't think anyone particularly enjoys being sent home to babysit," she replied sharply, opening the door and pausing only momentarily to make sure it didn't smack Keira in the face. She didn't particularly enjoy having her feeling pointed out to her by a third party, and as she often did when talking to people who didn't cradle her life in their hands like a tiny bird, she was not shy about letting her voice do whatever it wanted to. She patted her pocket, making sure she still had the car keys he'd slipped her. "But, you know, maybe that's just me."
She held up her hands. "Sorry. Touchy, jeez. Sorry Seb didn't let you stay so you two could fuck in the closet some more, how about. And yes. I saw you go into the closet. Nasties."
"How about this," she said, a little coldly, as she drew the keys out of her pocket and pressed the unlock button. "Every time you bring up how 'nasty' you find our sex life to be, I give you another graphic detail. See how disgusting you find us then. Get in the car, will you?"
"Jesus," she muttered, getting into the car. "He really pissed you off. Thank you dad, this will be a great ride home."
"He doesn't piss me off nearly as much as he used to, believe me," she snorted, putting the key in the ignition and starting the car with a rumble of the old engine. "Used to be we'd argue, then scream, and then, often, fight. Hardly even argued this time. It's not even completely his fault I'm pissed," she shook her head, shifting into gear and pulling out of their parking spot, heading for the road.
"Oh, yes, that's much better. Just silently pissed off at him. Grand. Who's fault is it then?" she asked with a sigh.
Her eyes never leaving the road, she sighed. "Mine."
She raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. "Okaaaay... care to elaborate on that at all?"
"I can't control my own feelings. It's stupid and irresponsible, and dangerous, but hell if my head will listen to any of that," she snorted, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to rub one eye.
She raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous? What could be dangerous about that?" she asks with a frown.
"Moriarty's two top lieutenants having feelings for one another is risky. Not being able to control those feelings is dangerous. But I guess we've accepted that for a good while now. The problem is that if one of us can't keep it in check on a mission and we blow it, the boss will make someone pay. And jealousy, well," she huffed, shaking her head. "That's not a smart feeling to have. Especially not in range of Jim."
"Who the hell do you have to be jealous of?" Keira scoffed. "You're one of the most powerful people in the criminal world, you're fucking loaded and you're banging the other one of the most powerful people in the world. Where do you get jealous out of that?"
She smirked, a rueful smile that said something along the lines of oh, the days of being young and naive. "I appreciate that you think I'm one of the most powerful people in the criminal world. I don't think anyone really knows me, though. Not like they know Moriarty, and even that is through whispers. A long time ago I started to make a habit out of fucking my bosses. I think we took too big of a bite out of this one, though."
It took her a few minutes to piece that together, and even when she had, she didn't believe it.
"You fucking fucked James fucking Moriarty?" she finally hissed.
"About a meter away from the recently-killed corpse of Charles Magnussen, yeah," she nodded, sighing. "He walked in on us. And stayed."
"Us. Meaning my father has also fucked James Moriarty. Jesus Christ." She tilted her head back against the seat. "You are both fucking morons."
"Hey, at least I fucked him with Moran. Moran has done it alone," she retorted defensively, eyebrows scrunched together. "Believe me, this shit has not exactly made my life easier. Who knows what happened to my life expectancy."
"Wait..." she said, glancing over at her. "Is that what you're jealous of? That he's fucked him without you? You're not, are you?"
"What, like you know how I should be feeling?" Lorna scoffed, giving her an incredulous look. "I don't need advice from a 5-year-old, thanks."
"Oh, insults, that's original. Does he know you're this jealous?" she asked, watching the road.
"Which one of them? Moran? He knows some of it. If you mean, Jim, well, I hope to god he doesn't. The only way I'd live through that is if he thought it was funny," she sighed. It was a tired sound, full of the weariness she'd accumulated from fighting with herself. "Sebastian doesn't like it when I'm jealous. God knows why."
"Because that's a perfectly reasonable reaction." She glanced over at her. "So what, you're just left to rant in the car? I'm not your fucking therapist. Talk to him. You're going to have fucking heart failure."
"You're the one who asked, brat. And no, I'm not going to talk to him. I think one instance of waking up with a nearly-slit throat was enough to whip that urge right out of me," she snapped, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel, which was tight enough that the leather beneath was beginning to grow slick with sweat.
"Jesus..." she muttered. "You mean Moran did that? I'd seen the scar, wondered how you were walking around still. And the reason you're still boning him is because... Why? Exactly?"
"Because I've had a pretty fucked up life, and he's the best thing that's ever happened to me," she sighed, giving a bit of a helpless shrug. "I've been a lot of relationships, kid. Fucked a lot of people. I just can't stay away from him. When we both accepted that ending up together was inevitable, things got easier."
She shook her head, muttering a few things under her breath. "Is it too much to ask for a normal family where everyone isn't murdering or fucking or both everyone else?"
"I'm not your family, kid, so all you have to worry about it your crazy-ass dad," she snorted, making a turn onto the road that led to the housing development.
"Yeah, him and my crazy-ass aunt and grandfather, evidently," she muttered. "I just thought he was more... Well, not less deadly, not at all, but you seemed like you were in the safe zone."
She gave a vague shrug. "I don't know. These days, I think I'm pretty safe. I don't think he'd kill me unless Jim told him to. But I used to be just another employee to him. The closest he ever came to killing me was when I tried to force him to admit we were something more. I don't actually remember him cutting me - he can knock you against the wall pretty hard, your dad."
"You hear how wrong this sounds, correct? You're a fucking poster child for some heart-sick domestic abuse foundation. Jesus." She rolled her eyes.
They pulled into the driveway, and she turned off the car, but she didn't move, just staring at the girl for a long moment. "Keira," she said, just as the silence was starting to become uncomfortable, "I'm going to give you a piece of advice that I recommend you take to heart if you plan on staying in this business. Moran is a hit man and a bodyguard. He tortures people for fun. I fuck people for information, and occasionally, I assassinate them. Neither of us could ever function in a normal relationship. Normal relationships don't exist in this line of work, alright? Don't go into one expecting that. Don't you ever let your guard down. Do what you can to make things work, but for god's sake, don't pretend the rules everyone else lives by apply."
She stared at her for a few seconds, then smirked slightly. "I think I know what to expect from people, mom. Just enjoying how fucked you are. We done?"
"I'm serious, kid," she sighed, pulling the keys out of the ignition and moving to get out. "You don't want to end up looking like me, do you?"
"That is a very valid point," she said, climbing out as well. "Though you seem to have come to terms with that one and you still look like you starred on 'Will It Blend', so..."
"Not sure what your point is there," she shook her head, heading for the front steps with a passing glance at the neighboring houses. No lights on. It was late, so no one was likely to be watching them, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
"My point is it didn't do you much good, obviously. So you've got no guarantee it'll do anything for me, either." She pushed the door open, stepping inside.
She let out an exasperated noise, shutting the door behind her and locking it. "I'm telling you things I've learned, idiot. Sheesh. It's a good thing I didn't know your father when he was your age. I might have killed him."
"Good luck with that," she retorted, kicking off her shoes and heading for her room. "Night."
Lorna just rolled her eyes and headed for the sofa. She'd wait a while to see if Sebastian came home, then she was just going to have to suck it up and go to bed alone.
Jim was relieved when the party started to clear out; it was a cue for the others to leave, and so they did, which was convenient, as he'd been imagining inventive ways to kill them as the night wore on. That would have been an annoying mess later. "Come, Moran," he sighed, turning for the back door. "What did you think of them?"
"I thought they were immature, both as individuals and as an organization, and I very much wanted to murder them," he said casually as he fell into step with the Irishman. "But they're just idiotic enough to be potentially useful."
"Yes, that's about in line with my thinking," he sighed, elbowing open the back door and stepping out with a huff, running a hand over his hair. The air outside was humid and cool, only a little out of character for this time of the year in England. At least out here, it was quiet. "I don't believe I've the patience to sit through another meeting with them. See that I don't, in the future."
"I'll pass that information onto scheduling, sir. I can't deal with them personally at the moment, but I'll get someone useful to." He glanced over at him. "I hesitate to ask, sir, but are you actually wearing reindeer cuff links, or did someone spike my drink?"
"No one stops a man wearing reindeer cufflinks, Sebastian," he smirked, "No one could guess that he's threatening. I can't always afford the luxury of not blending in," he shrugged, slipping one hand into his pocket. "Like you, for instance. I knew the instant you were no longer amongst the sheep. Now where could you have gotten off to?"
"I'm sure you were able to surmise, boss," he said with a smirk. "You saw what Harrison was wearing."
"I did, yes," he smirked, reaching out straighten Moran's collar. There was a glint of something sharp in his eyes. "I just thought I'd give you an opportunity to explain why the two of you fucked not 500 feet away and didn't invite me."
"You appeared busy, sir," he returned with a smirk. "Something about an important meeting. Do not interrupt. All that." There was energy in the boss's eyes that he hadn't seen in awhile. He knew that he should say goodnight, walk home. But there was a lot of scotch in his system at the moment.
"That's not my point, Moran. My point is you didn't even make an effort," he said darkly, fingers curling further into his collar, dragging him down until their faces were a few inches apart. "I'm hurt, Moran. You ought to make it up to me."
Suddenly there was a new element to this equation: danger. It did nothing to help calm the hard-on he was getting. Neither did the hand yanking him around by his collar. He forgot how much a part of him loved that hand at his throat.
"Jim... fuck ..." he muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to exclude you, sir..."
"I should hope not," he murmured, licking his lips, looking thoughtfully at the sniper for a moment, calculating. He'd seen Lorna earlier, had tasted the jealousy in the air like the stink of smoke in the wind. He'd ignored it at the moment, but now, he stirred the feeling back up, swirling it like a glass of wine, trying to get a bead on the specific aroma it gave off. She was a good enough reader to know when her beau had just been fucked in an alley. Was he willing to risk the strain on their mission?
If she can't keep it together for the job, she's worthless to me. I'll do what I like with him.
He pulled Moran down the rest of the way, kissing him hard.
He had thought about making his excuses and walking away. The kiss threw all that out the window, and a moment later he was snogging Jim back ferociously, letting him lead. So much for that particular line of thought.
Is it still me that makes you sweat?
Am I who you think about in bed
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking
As you're sliding off your dress?
Then think of what you did
And how I hope to God he was worth it
When the lights are dim and your heart is racing
As your fingers touch his skin
- Panic! At The Disco - Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off -