A little bit of non-con in this chapter, nothing big, just thought I'd put a warning.
He could hear John shouting but he had zoned out, couldn't be bothered to listen. It had started off with talking, and then Sherlock had explained how the intercourse began.
"Wait, it happened in here?" John asked from the kitchen doorway. Sherlock looked up at him and then at the sofa. John's eyes followed his vision until he was also looking at the sofa and he grimaced, "Oh m- Seriously!?"
"Your observation skills are terrible, John. Really, Moriarty's clothes were scattered over the floor."
John gawped at Sherlock, "I thought they were yours! You seem to have a habit of just – dumping things in random places." He looked back at the sofa and grimaced again. Sherlock rolled his eyes,
"I had intercourse with another man; I don't understand why you're being so childish about it."
John stared at him incredulously, "A man? He's not just a man though, is he Sherlock? He's a flippin' criminal mastermind who wants to kill you!"
"Evidently not." Sherlock commented snidely.
John sighed in frustration and began to rant.
So this is where they were, Sherlock sitting at the kitchen table like a teenager who had been caught smoking and their mother was telling them just how dangerous it was.
"Are you-? You're not even listening to a single word I'm saying, are you? Of course not, why would you listen to me? I'm just your-"
"Yes John, you're my friend, and by definition, you should support my acts and views, not torment me with idiotic rants."
"You are seriously lucky I don't tear your throat out." John said lowly, then his eyes casted over Sherlock's neck and he turned away, "looks like Moriarty is halfway done with that." He muttered.
"John-"
"No, shut up." John pointed at him, "I don't even want to look at you, this is dangerous and I am actually surprised you are this stupid."
Something struck Sherlock hard in the chest, "I know what I'm doing."
"You do? Oh that's good; suddenly I see it your way – the 'right' way." The doctor said sarcastically and sighed again.
"It is nothing but sex, John - mindless, emotionless sex."
"No, a one-off is mindless, emotionless sex. This," John gestured to Sherlock's bruised and cut body, "this is more than mindless, emotionless sex."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Sherlock stood from the chair and went to approach his violin before John stopped him, grabbing his forearm,
"Please Sherlock," He said quietly, his eyes downcast. Sherlock looked at him closely, seeing the hurt on his face made him feel like a complete fool. When Sherlock didn't reply, John let go of his arm and turned away full, so he wasn't facing the detective. Sherlock decided it would be best to just leave the doctor to his own devices; he didn't want to upset him anymore than he already had.
John had left the flat shortly after Sherlock began playing the violin. He thought that maybe the piece he was playing was a bit too dark for John's liking, either way, he was happy to be alone with just the comfort of his music-
-Alone until he heard a soft chuckle behind him.
His hand froze; the bow still struck the string and created a foul, unpleasant sound, a screech as Sherlock's mind screamed at him to not turn around, to just ignore the man standing behind him.
"Here we are again," Moriarty said cheerfully – Sherlock could hear a smile forming on his face.
"It's over." Sherlock said suddenly, still holding the violin in its place.
"No it isn't." Moriarty chuckled. Sherlock was a little bit surprised that he didn't have to explain what was over, then again, Moriarty wasn't anybody else - he almost wasn't human.
"It stops now, I can't lose John."
"Oh," Moriarty's voice was low – insulted.
Sherlock finally put his violin down, knowing his nemesis wasn't leaving anytime soon, and faced the other man. "So it ends."
Moriarty's hands were in his trouser pockets as he slowly walked forward, towards Sherlock. "I'm disappointed in you, Sherly." He looked up and his eyes were dark - viciously dark.
"Dare I ask why?"
Moriarty suddenly grasped Sherlock's chin almost painfully, looking him dead in the eye, "Are you forgetting who you belong to?"
Sherlock was contemplating a reply when nails dug into his skin and he hissed in pain, gasping when Moriarty forced him onto his knees. He felt the slightest stab of fear knowing Jim could easily take control, he always got his way.
Moriarty looked down at him with a sinister expression and eased the grip on his chin, "take off your shirt."
Sherlock hesitated before slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt and slipping it off his skin, feeling Moriarty's gaze boring into him.
"Look at all that skin," Jim commented, hissing with arousal, "I'd love to just wear it." He then leaned down so he was face to face with Sherlock, "this isn't over until I say it's over."
Sherlock felt Moriarty's lips against his, slow and delicate soon turning to deep and harsh when Sherlock returned the kiss. Groans of arousal were heard throughout the flat as Sherlock was pushed backwards until his back hit the floor and Moriarty's body was on his, already grinding against him desperately.
"No foreplay today I'm guessing," Moriarty smirked against Sherlock's lips,
"Shut up." The detective breathed, Moriarty just smirked again and sat up fully with his hands on Sherlock's chest.
"Mmm, God you feel huge." He teased and grinded his arse against Sherlock's erection, "remember the deal we made, pet? You were fucking me today."
Sherlock growled and looped his fingers into Jim's belt loops, "you're going to ride me?"
"Ooh, you've found your dirty mouth." Moriarty began to unbutton his trousers and moved onto Sherlock's once he was done. Slowly, he leaned forward and began to suck on two of his fingers whilst pushing his trousers down over his arse. Sherlock let out a desperate moan at the other man slicking the digits and dug his nails into the skin on Moriarty's back, needing him.
Jim's hand smoothed its way down to the front of Sherlock's trousers and impressively unbuttoned them with three fingers as the slicked fingers on his other hand moved to his rear. Sherlock's mouth replaced the fingers and he swallowed the other man's moans as he penetrated himself, obviously putting on a show to tease the detective.
Fingers snaked their way around Sherlock's cock and his breath hitched, feeling the warmth of a hand begin to play with his member, he shivered when Moriarty grinded his bare arse against Sherlock's erection as the detective spread the other man and pinched his skin in arousal.
"I'm enjoying this," Moriarty panted and began to lower himself onto Sherlock's dick, "fuck."
It was unusual for Jim to swear, he was a very controlled man and- Oh God almighty- Sherlock moaned as a tight heat suddenly surrounded his cock, he tried to keep his breathing under control but failed not-so-miserably when Moriarty began moving up and down, sometimes moving in such ways which felt so impossibly amazing that Sherlock couldn't stop himself from thrusting up into that gorgeously hot tightness.
"I underestimated you," Moriarty laughed breathlessly and gripped at Sherlock's shoulders.
"There has been a time when you haven't?" Sherlock panted and threw his head back when Jim slammed down onto him; his hands drew blood along the various scratches embedded into Moriarty's back.
Moriarty began to speed up and Sherlock knew he wasn't going to last long, an orgasm was gripping him, he could feel it slowly building.
"Oh God!" Moriarty whined loudly as he began to pump himself.
Sherlock tensed and gave one final thrust up into Moriarty as he came, cursing loudly. Jim panted against Sherlock's lips as worked at his cock a few more times before semen spilled out over Sherlock's chest, some hitting Sherlock's chin. Moriarty voluntarily lapped up the semen with his tongue and thrust his lips against Sherlock's, he could taste Jim on his lips and it made some part of him kiss hungrily back, swallowing the taste with pleasure.
The two sat in the silent flat, foreheads together and nothing but their heavy breathing and pants could be heard, echoing against the walls.
"Do you want to end it now?" Moriarty said finally, climbing off of Sherlock.
Christ, Sherlock thought suddenly, he felt regret and guilt creeping back up on him as he readjusted his trousers. He couldn't end this; Moriarty certainly wouldn't let him, no chance.
"What if I say yes?" He asked shifting to lean on his elbows and stare up at the criminal.
"Then I leave and never come back." Moriarty shrugged but visibly flinched in – obvious – pain. Sherlock felt a smirk working on his lips, now the arsehole will understand how painful it is to be covered in scratches.
Moriarty was staring down at him; he needed to make a decision. If he didn't end this, whatever this was, he was sure to lose John, his best friend. John meant so much to him, more that Moriarty ever could. This was just sex, nothing more.
It was all a game and Sherlock had lost, it made him clench his jaw and think twice about his answer, but sense made it to him first, "I want to end it."
"Fine," Jim buttoned his trousers and offered a hand to Sherlock, who took it gratefully. He was pulled against Moriarty's body, "I'm going to miss this little thing of ours."
Sherlock felt him linger longer than he should have before turning away, adjusting his blazer and hair, and then leaving through the door. The detective stood, perhaps a little bit baffled. Moriarty had difficult tendencies, some of which Sherlock didn't know how to follow.
He felt something harsh strike through his chest; he had actually stopped the sex between Moriarty and him – his nemesis, the man who supposedly wanted to kill him. The situation seemed more psychotic when looking at it from another perspective – John's perspective.
Taking a few minutes to breathe, Sherlock looked down at himself, the semen on his chest was starting to go cold and it felt disgusting.
Clean up, get dressed and wait for John to come back. That was the plan – what an excellent plan.