John remained mute en route to wherever Moran was taking him. Rubbing his eyes, he realised that he was trembling. It was shock. There was no other explanation for it, really. After all, it wasn't as if John scared easily. Two minutes. Part of John wished that he hadn't gotten into the habit of wearing his watch to bed – wished he could forget just how close he had come to losing his life. Running his hands through his hair, he let out a long sigh and kept his eyes locked on his knees. He was fine. Alive. That's what mattered. Even so, he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Moriarty hadn't figured everything out… if he hadn't sent Moran when he did. Moriarty had undoubtedly saved his life, and it made John re-evaluate their previous argument. At the time, he hadn't actually believed his life to be in danger. He thought Moriarty was being cruel and twisted and nothing more. It almost shamed him to think how quickly he had judged and accused Moriarty without knowing what was actually going on. And now he was going to have to apologise for being quick to condemn if nothing else.

"Watson!" Moran called out sharply, as if he had been trying to get John's attention for a while.

Jerking back to the present, John responded, "What? What is it?"

"We're here," Moran informed him before getting out. John opened the door and staggered onto the sidewalk. Moran promptly yanked John's rucksack out of the boot and slung it over his shoulder. "Close call, eh?" he pointed out nonchalantly as he shut the boot.

"I've had closer."

"Doesn't matter how close you get, really. It feels exhilarating and horrifying every time," Moran responded quietly as he started up the stairs to the building.

Glancing around the street, John found that he was in a part of London that he was unfamiliar with. A diner was across the street from the building with a small café five doors down from that. Other than that, it was as nondescript as it got in London. Moran stopped at the door and hit the doorbell for flat 23. A second later, the door buzzed open, and Moran opened it for John. Slipping inside, John waited before following Moran across the lobby and to the elevator. They stepped inside and went up to the second floor. Heading to room 23, they stopped outside as Moran knocked twice and waited a few seconds before opening the door. He motioned for John to step inside first, and he did. He found himself in a small entryway. To his left was a coat hanger with a couple of jackets up and some shoes resting underneath it. To his right was a small table with a mirror above it. Directly in front of him and about a metre away was a closet and a half of a metre past the table was another door. Suddenly, the door opened, and James Moriarty stepped into the entryway. John was somewhat surprised to find him in a button-down shirt and black trousers at this time of night. Of course, he knew he shouldn't be too shocked. James was a posh gentleman. It was only natural that he wouldn't be seen by Moran in anything less than that.

"John," he called out, his voice soft and yet still demanding. John snapped his head up and locked eyes automatically. "There's something for you to eat and drink in the kitchen. Grab it and go to bed. I'll be there in a second."

John blinked a few times and opened his mouth to object only to find that there was no reason to. It would be good for him to get something into his system. Besides, he wasn't particularly in the mood to fight at that moment anyway. "Where can I locate the kitchen and bedroom?" he finally inquired so he didn't look like an idiot with his mouth bobbing up and down.

"Kitchen is just inside and to the right. You can't miss it. Bedroom is towards the back of the flat – the door to the left," James informed him while motioning towards the door.

John turned back and accepted his rucksack from Moran. After giving a small "thanks," he headed into the flat. It was startling to see just how different this flat was in comparison to the one he used to live in. First of all, it was much more posh than the last flat John had stayed in. For the most part, it was an open floor plan with the kitchen – island included, only this time with an electric stove on it – directly to his right instead of to the left as it had been in his old flat. There was a table in front of the door – just like where he had lived – but with the sofa and two chairs behind the dining area. After another look around, he realised that there were more windows in this flat as well, which would be nice… assuming that he would be staying there. A television was mounted on the back wall not too far from another door on the left, which John now knew led to the bedroom. There was a door to the right, and he assumed that it led to the bathroom. Once he had taken it in the first time, he noticed there was a glass of water and a plate with a piece of toast covered in jam on the kitchen island. He let out a soft chuckle as he saw it – God knows he requested enough jam during his stay at the other flat to last anyone else a lifetime. Dropping his bag next to the island, he picked up the glass and plate before heading back to the bedroom. He could investigate more tomorrow.

Heading into the bedroom, John noticed the closet to the right. A dresser sat right next to the door, and the bed rested to the left of the entrance and pressed against the back wall. John slid over and sat down on the bed, which sank under his weight. Slowly, he ate his toast, which he came to realise had his favourite jam on it, and drank the water. By the time he was done, his adrenaline had worn off, and he was left feeling incredibly tired. He suddenly heard a door open and close, and he listened carefully as a set of footsteps approached the bedroom. Gently, he set the plate and glass on the nightstand and turned to find James walking into the room.

"I apologise," John said quickly, wanting to get that out before he talked himself out of it. "I'm still not entirely sure that those three men had to die, but I understand more now that you didn't do it because you wanted to but because you had to. I shouldn't have been so fast to condemn you for your actions, especially since I didn't have all of the information."

James blinked in surprise and examined John carefully. It almost appeared as if James had never been apologised to before. Or, at least, never sincerely – probably just while they were begging for their lives,John thought cynically. Quickly shoving those opinions to the back of his mind, John waited patiently for a response. However, the one he got wasn't the one he expected.

"How close?"

"Sorry?" John inquired, not following.

Not missing a beat, James clarified, "How close did you come to dying?"

"Oh," John murmured, shifting uncomfortably under James's gaze. "I figured you would have asked Moran that question."

"There's a high probability that Moran lied to me when I did. Now I won't repeat this again – how close was it?"

"Two minutes. But what does that matter?" John replied.

"It just does," James responded dismissively. Another long pause passed through the two of them. "Is this how you felt?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, John pressed, "I can't read minds, you know. I don't know what you're talking about."

"The night that I was almost shot," James replied with a sigh as he slowly sauntered towards John. "Is this how you felt? Is that why you kissed me then? Why you finally gave yourself over to me?"

John shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know what you're feeling right now, so I can't really say. I suppose that it probably is, though."

Sliding down on to the bed, James gently shoved John down as loomed over him. "I almost lost you," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I almost lost my own life," John pointed out, his heart starting to race in his chest.

James made a face before straddling John and pinning him to the bed. "Do you understand now, though? Why it had to be done? They knew too much. They were putting you in danger."

"And why does that matter to you?" John countered softly as James placed his hands on either side of his head in order to brace himself. "It didn't put you in danger, after all."

Smirking, James responded, "Because I don't like people touching my things."

"I'm not-" John started to object.

"But you are, John," James stated, cutting him off. "You are, whether you believe it or not right now. Whether you can accept it or not. You'll come to understand. Just like you did with your feelings for me. It'll only take a bit of time before you realise that what I say is true."

John rolled his eyes. "As always, you're one for the dramatics. But I'm never going to be yours. I'm never going to be owned by you. I'm not the kind of person who can allow that. We're either equals or nothing at all."

James scowled as he heard this, but he sank low and gently kissed John on the lips. John made sure to keep it chaste even when James gently sucked and nipped at his bottom lip, practically begging for entrance into his mouth. He had a point to make – he wasn't just going to cow down to James Moriarty. With a growl, James pulled back before lowering and locking onto John's neck. John gasped and bucked involuntarily, his cock trying to find some form of friction, as he felt James's teeth scrape against his Adam's apple. He was already half-hard from this alone, and he put it up to the fact that he had almost died that night. Breath hitching, he craned his head back to give James better access to his throat.

James chuckled, his lips vibrating against the skin. "I knew you would be submissive by nature."

With that, John suddenly rounded on James, flipping him over and pressing him into the mattress. He wouldn't be seen as anything less than an equal, especially in bed. "I'll show you submissive," he snapped, his hands ripping James's shirt open. Buttons flew everywhere, but it seemed that neither of them cared at that point. John kissed and nipped down James's neck and chest before taking a nipple into his mouth and teasing it. Immediately, his hands flew down and teasingly kneaded James's erection through his trousers. James let out a nearly inaudible gasp and carefully stilled himself. Confused, John paused for a moment before he realised what was happening. Pulling away from James, he sunk down and began undoing James's trousers. "Oh, that's how it is, is it?" he murmured huskily as he pulled off the belt. "You don't want to let yourself lose control. You don't want to give yourself over to me, so you fight it with everything you have. You try to keep yourself quiet and still because you don't want me to know just how much this affects you."

"Quite the romantic, aren't you?" James countered, avoiding the statement altogether.

John raised and eyebrow before yanking James's trousers and pants down. "Well," he murmured after a moment, "only one of us is naked right now…" He was just about to take the tip of James's cock in his mouth when the other man sprang up and pinned John down onto the bed instead.

"Don't for a second believe you have any control over me," he hissed out angrily before yanking John's T-shirt off.

Before anything could be said, James sank his teeth into John's neck, making him let out a yelp of pain mixed with pleasure. James's hands nimbly removed John's pyjama bottoms and pants, leaving both of them naked and panting. Carefully, James licked where he had just bitten down before pressing a kiss into the skin. Meanwhile, his hands trailed down John's sides before swiftly caressing his chest and tweaking his nipples. Arching his back into the touch, John let out a quiet groan of need. James then swiftly shifted up and latched onto the other side of the neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. Pain bloomed there, but the pleasure John was receiving from being touched was enough to keep him satisfied. Slowly pulling back, James examined his second mark before kissing him on the lips. This time, he had managed to take John off guard, and he flicked his tongue in. Slowly, John reacted and playfully swiped his tongue back in response. Being dominated wasn't so bad, he supposed, although he would never admit that out loud. James deepened the kiss, exploring John's mouth thoroughly before pulling back before John could have his turn. Letting out a disappointed groan, he quickly reached down to yank James back down for a kiss. However, he slipped out of John's hands by suddenly leaning over to the left and opening the nightstand drawer. He grabbed something, and it took John a moment to realise it was lubricant. Immediately, his heart began racing in his chest.

"James," he started to say.

"Just trust me, John," James whispered as he slicked his left hand.

It was only until his hand wrapped around John's aching erection that he actually managed to relax. It was firm and yet not painfully tight, slowly shifting up and down. It was maddening to finally have the much needed contact only for it to still not be enough. Involuntarily, John bucked up into James's hand only to have it pull back, much to his frustration. Part of him just wanted to reach down and take himself in his hand if only to spite James. Another part, however, knew that James had an objective here, and he wanted to know what it was. "Stop teasing me," John demanded, not sure how it would go over. James raised an eyebrow in response before he promptly began stroking harder and faster. Tossing his head back, John let out a low moan and bucked up into it. God, he had needed the contact more than he originally thought. His eyes shut as pleasure overwhelmed his senses.

"Keep your eyes on me," James ordered sharply.

Immediately, John's eyes flashed open and locked onto James's. He was already panting, his jaw slightly slack as his half-lidded eyes threatened to close again. "J-James," he managed to say before feeling a particularly rough stroke. "Yes!" he cried out, bucking up into James's hand encouragingly.

Smirking, James shifted his right hand down. John wouldn't have noticed if he had not felt a slicked finger circle his entrance. Without warning, James thrust his finger in before crooking it and pulling out. John was surprised by the sudden movement, and he jolted slightly. James then thrust a finger in again, this time twisting it sharply before pulling out. Slowly, each of them found a rhythm – James thrusting a finger in, curling it, pulling out, back in, twisting, pulling back out. The stimulation was like nothing John had ever experienced before, being penetrated while stroked, and it wasn't as painful as he thought it would be. Trembling ever so slightly, John barely managed to keep his eyes opened and focused on James. He kept making embarrassing noises – moans and whimpers – as James continued with his ministrations. And then just as abruptly, John felt a second finger plunge in with the first. It would have been incredibly uncomfortable had James not struck his prostate.

"Oh, fuck!" John exclaimed as a jolt of pleasure went straight up his spine. His eyes were wide, and he stared at James for a long moment as he tried to comprehend everything.

"Like that?" James prompted before repeating the motion. Whimpering, John bit his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself quiet. He swallowed hard and barely managed to nod in response. "Good." With that, James leaned down and gave John a sweet, chaste kiss. Then he shifted, removing his hand from John's still painfully hard cock, and coming to rest in between John's legs. Instinctively, John spread him further apart to give James better access. After a few more thrusts, James slipped in a third finger, not losing rhythm at all. This, however, caused a flicker of pain to shoot up John's back, and he tensed a moment. Feeling this, James stilled and murmured, "Relax."

"Easy for you to say," John responded a bit haughtily. After all, he was the one with three fingers up his arse. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling awkwardly filled by them. It almost felt like too much, and he knew that he would have more in store than just three fingers if they continued.

James chuckled under his breath. "Push out," he then said. It took John a moment before he processed that this was an order. Doing as he was told, John felt his arse relax around James's fingers, which immediately began to play with his prostate again. Meanwhile, James lowered his head and began to leave bites and love bites on John's inner thighs, which were definitely going to bruise and leave him marked. Moaning, John bucked down greedily as he finally began to loosen around James's fingers and wanted to take more into him. "Yes, that's it, John," James whispered, his eyes locked on John's face. "Very good."

At this point, John could no longer tell if James was being sincere or condescending, so he elected to ignore that final comment. He gasped for breath as James struck his prostate repeatedly, making his cock twitch in interest and need. John reached down to stroke himself only for James's free hand to brush him away. Scowling, John instead propped himself up on one arm and reached out with the other, gently teasing James's nipples. James gasped, and his fingers faltered a moment in response. It was nice to finally get a reaction out of James, but John knew that this wasn't enough. That it would probably never be enough.

"I'm not going to beg for it if that's what you're waiting for," John informed James as he gave a grind down.

James removed his fingers, much to John's disappointment and slight horror. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you. I'll make you beg some other time, though. I promise."

With that, John felt his legs being separated and his arse lifted off the mattress for a second as James reached up and snatched a pillow. Once it was situated underneath John, James let his legs drop again before dragged John closer to him. Suddenly, all those trepidations about anal sex came flooding into John's mind once more. "James, wait," he said, trying to pull away.

James's vice grip kept him there. "It'll be alright," he whispered. He leaned down and captured John's lips in a biting kiss, causing John to moan in response. After breaking the kiss, he murmured, "We'll take it slow, and it will be nothing less than pleasurable."

"Condom?" John inquired pointedly.

Scoffing, James responded, "We're both clean, John. Did you honestly think I would take you unprotected if we weren't?"

John hesitated a moment. "No, I don't…" he finally admitted.

Leaning down, James whispered, "Just trust me, alright? I'll take care of you."

There was a look in James's eyes – a flash – of caring. If John had blinked, he would have missed it. As it was, he wasn't entirely sure if he had just imagined it in the first place. But he, despite himself, trusted James. He sucked in a deep breath and gave a short nod. Smiling in response, James shifted and repositioned himself. John forced himself to relax, and James's grans breached into his body before pulling back out. They were slow, short thrusts, barely entering before pulling out. James continued to kiss John's face and lips and nip harshly at his neck and clavicle as he moved. It was almost painfully slow in John's mind, as James dipped deeper and deeper and stretched him further and further, yet never quite going in to the hilt. Shifting his legs wider, John looked down and watched as James thrust half-way in. It was incredibly erotic to watch as James slipped in and out of him. Groaning, John tossed his head back and bucked down encouragingly.

"John, look at me," James managed to say through his panting.

John slowly looked back down. With one swift movement, James buried himself into John's body, and pain flickered up John's spine as he was stretched and completely filled. Gasping, he curled forward for a second only to be pushed back into the mattress. James stilled for a moment, leaning down and trailing kisses down John's jaw. It felt strange – being filled in such an intimate way – but it wasn't as painful as he thought it would be. A touch uncomfortable, but nothing that John couldn't work through. Eventually, James pulled out before smoothly sinking back into John's body. This time, his prostate was struck, and John let out a cry as a rush of pleasure raced through his body.

"Oh, fuck, James!"

Grinning, James pulled out and slowly thrust back in. Every time, it was smooth and precise, always trying to strike John's prostate. John was an utter wreck, moaning and grabbing at the sheets and then James himself, trying to draw him closer as he was being repeatedly filled. It felt like he needed more still, although he wasn't entirely sure what more he needed. When he accidentally raked his nails down James's back, James gave a rough thrust in, causing John to let out a whimper of need.

"You like it a bit rough, do you?" James inquired huskily, giving another sharp snap into John's body. John gave another whimper and dug his fingers into James's back. "I should have known."

With that, James began to pound into John's body, his thrusts sharp and fast. John was more vocal than he had ever been before, moaning and whimpering, as flesh met flesh. Reaching down, James took John's leaking erection in his hand and began stroking it in time with his thrusts. It felt incredible to finally have that contact – to understand why it wasn't quite enough before. All too soon, John felt that knot in the bottom of his stomach begin to twist painfully, and he tossed back his head and enjoyed the ripples of pleasure that shot through his body, making him shudder and moan repeatedly. Realising he was on the cusp of climax, John gasped out James's name, trying to warn him out of habit. Shushing him, James leaned down and kissed John once again. John screamed out, muffled by the kiss, as he came on himself. James moaned as well, one of the most substantial noises he had ever made, and broke the kiss, panting hard as he began to buck wildly into John. The room was filled with the sounds of panting, grunts, and the meeting of flesh with flesh. Catching his breath, John propped himself up slightly and continued to move with James, tightening his arse around James's cock in order to help him reach the edge.

"Not inside," John managed to warn, seeing James getting closer to his climax.

Grunting in acknowledgement, James ripped out of John and stroked himself to completion, coming on John while moaning out his name loudly. John watched on in fascination as he watched James lose control of himself. It was a glorious sight – James's eyes skewed shut, his mouth dropped in a perfect "o" shape as he called out John's name, his entire body tense and rigid. Collapsing next to John, James rolled onto his back and tried to catch his breath. Both of them took a long moment before John let out a groan. He felt disgusting, and being covered in cum was doing nothing for him. Going to get up, he felt an arm wrap possessively around his waist and a sharp spike of pain shoot through his lower torso.

"I need to clean myself up," John objected, setting a hand on James's arm.

"You'll be sore," James warned him.

"I know, but I've survived worse than that."

Without another word, John rose slowly to his feet and bit back a groan as pain shot through his back. He slowly shifted out of the bedroom, as the bathroom was down the hall. Very carefully, he cleaned himself off and went back into the bedroom. James was under the duvet with his back turned to the door. John took the time to put on his pants, despite the pain it caused him, before sliding into bed as well. He tugged the duvet over him and turned his back to James as well. Closing his eyes, he relaxed but didn't quite fall asleep.

Although his PTSD didn't haunt him as much, John still suffered from nightmares and, less frequently, night terrors. He knew that tonight was a high-risk night, despite how the sex had off-set his adrenaline rush and fear. So as he drifted in and out of consciousness, he shifted and twisted until he came in contact with James. He would then relax until he realised what he was doing, and he would pull away from James and move to his side of the bed once more. After all, he never needed someone before, so why would he need someone now?

Eventually, John managed to actually fall asleep. It began peacefully, but then the dreams started up. Shouted orders – gunfire – explosions – screams – blood – dilapidated buildings – blinding sunlight – unbearable heat. Eyes wide, John suddenly jerked up and let out a bloodcurdling scream as he clutched his wounded shoulder. As he continued to yell, he couldn't feel the arms wrap around him nor the hand that stroked through his hair nor the lips being pressed into his temple. He also couldn't hear the soft, soothing words being spoken into his ear. The only thing that John could feel was adrenaline-induced fear. Gradually, he calmed down and his screaming subsided. He went limp, collapsing into those arms, and was drawn close as they laid back down. Once situated, he was basically laying on top of James. One last kiss was pressed into his hair before John's eyes closed once more.

He silently slept for another few hours before he stirred and realised where he was. Confused, he went to pull back before he felt arms tighten around him. "Don't," James warned, his voice still heavy from sleep.

"I sleep better alone," John responded earnestly.

"That's bullshit."

Blinking, John locked up and pressed, "What do you mean?"

"Do you honestly not remember?" James prompted, his eyes still closed. "You tossed and turned for a solid two hours. Then once you fell asleep, you were quiet only for an hour at most before you started screaming like someone was killing you. You wouldn't have woken up for the apocalypse. But for the last nearly three hours, you've slept peacefully." John was at a loss for words. "So do me a favour, would you? I have to work tomorrow, and I would appreciate more than three hours of sleep."

John shifted slightly in James's arms, feeling somewhat guilty about the whole situation. He was just so used to Sherlock, who almost never slept and therefore didn't really care about how well John slept at night, that he hadn't thought that maybe he was causing James issues. Naturally, that had been remarkably selfish of him. He needed to just suck up his pride for once and depend on someone no matter how much he didn't want to. After all, James didn't deserve to lose sleep when there was apparently something John could do to keep that from happening. Frowning, he said nothing as he slowly sank back down. It took a couple of shifts before he was comfortable again with one of James's arms wrapped around his shoulders and John's head resting on his chest. It felt strange. First of all, he wasn't used to having such warmth underneath him. But secondly, he had never been the kind of man to be intimate after finding out he had a night terror. It always made him feel weak to depend on someone at that point. But right now, he supposed he didn't really mind all that much. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of James's even breathing and steady heartbeat as he slowly slipped back into a remarkably peaceful sleep once more.