"Behind you, Watson!" Moran shouted.

John jumped as he heard the yell before turning his character around in time to see Moran's character shoot their attacker in the head. Letting out a sigh, he relaxed back into the sofa. Moran had come over earlier in the day – after James left – and set up an Xbox 360 in the living room and put in some wartime videogame. For the last three hours, John had been learning the controls, how to read the map properly, coordinating between weapons, and how to effectively play the game. Moran actually turned out to be a good teacher, taking his time with John and explaining everything precisely. Best of all, he didn't get upset when John messed up a mission up or died. Instead, he would laugh merrily before restarting everything.

"Jesus Christ, Moran," John finally said as a cut scene started, "I don't know how you manage to react so quickly."

"Practice," Moran answered him, leaning forward and snatching up his beer from the coffee table. "Seriously. If you spend enough time playing videogames, you can become this good at them as well."

Laughing, John responded, "I still can't remember which button is for grenades and which is for my other weapon. I'm pretty sure I'm just a lost cause."

"I've seen worse after three hours of playing," Moran noted encouragingly before draining his beer and crushing the can. The cut scene ended. "Let's do this!"

John had his character follow Moran's across the field, keeping low and behind cover as much as possible. Once Moran navigated them up somewhere high, John instinctively turned his character around to watch Moran's back. It was a system that they had developed since Moran enjoyed being a sniper even in videogames. Of course, he could be a sniper in the game. It was sort of hard for John to be an army doctor. The first time he saw his character "heal" Moran, he was appalled by what the programmers had depicted as proper first aid.

As Moran began to pick off enemy soldiers, John said, "You know, I'm enjoying this more than I was expecting."

"Good," Moran grunted. John could tell that he wasn't really processing what was being said to him, concentrating too hard on the game.

So jokingly, John continued, "But I think I would enjoy it more if we were having sex while playing. What do you think of that?"

"Yeah."

"I would be fucking you, of course. I hope you don't mind that at all."

"And what if I minded it?" a familiar voice called out darkly from behind them.

Both men jumped to attention. Apparently, Moran hadn't noticed James walk in either. They turned around to find Moriarty stalking over, his eyes piercing and narrowed. "Boss," Moran responded, pausing the game. He didn't say anything else, clearly trying to ascertain if he was in trouble or not.

"I was just kidding, James. Moran wasn't listening, and I decided to give him a hard time," John stated quickly, rising to his feet.

Moriarty's eyes flickered from Moran's face to John's and back. He was observing and deducing, and John went at ease. After all, they weren't being sexually intimate, and John had no interest in being more than just friends with Moran. James would see that. Eventually, Moriarty relaxed ever so slightly after a long moment of silence. "Come with me, Moran. I have a job for you."

"Yes, sir," Moran responded, standing up. He looked back at John long enough to say, "If you want to continue playing, you just need to turn it to single-player mode." Walking around the sofa, he followed Moriarty out of the room and into the small entryway.

John turned back to the game and exited their current mission before turning it on single-player mode. He barely managed to get through the first mission when he heard the door open again. Putting the game on pause, he cautiously turned his head to find James undoing his tie, having already shrugged off his jacket. Relieved, he relaxed a bit more. "Feel better?" he inquired nonchalantly.

"Yes, but you might want to watch what you say in the future. I'm not known for my charity, after all," James responded as he headed towards him.

John could see he was still a bit tense, though. "Need a massage?" he asked.

James paused a moment. "Do you give massages?"

"I'm no professional, but I did take a class in Uni. Just take off your shirt and lie down."

Humming in response, James walked over, removed his shirt, and tapped John, signalling him to stand up. As soon as he did, James flopped over the back of the sofa and groaned as he sprawled out. John chuckled in response before straddling James's waist. He carefully pressed flat hands onto James's back before pushing down and stroking up. Letting out a groan, James relaxed further under the touch. Slowly, John worked his way up James's spine before massaging his shoulders, which actually crackled under his touch, and neck. He then worked back down, this time focusing on James's shoulder blades and lower back. By the time he was through, James had practically melted into the sofa.

"Jesus Christ, Johnny, why didn't you tell me you could massage earlier?" James complained as John pulled away.

"You never asked."

James chuckled under his breath as he heard this. Very slowly, he sat up and began to wiggle about, as if testing everything out. At the very least, he looked more limber than before. John smiled proudly before sitting down and picking up the controller again. Suddenly, something heavy plopped into his lap, and he looked down to find James had made him a pillow. He didn't have the heart to object, so he sat back and resumed his game. Before he knew it, James was sleeping on top of him. He took the few seconds required to grab the blanket from the back of the sofa and drape it over James's figure. Then he muted the game, opting to read the subtitles in order to know what was going on, in order to leave James undisturbed. Every time a cut scene came, he would lower his hand and gently comb it through James's hair. The first three times he did it, he hadn't even realised what he was doing, and even after he did, he continued. It gave him something to do.

Suddenly, James shifted and called out, "John…"

"Yeah?" John asked, not looking down as he shot yet another enemy.

Instead of answering, James flipped over and pressed his face into John's stomach. John paused the game and glanced down to find that James wasn't awake at all – that he had called out John's name in his sleep. All at once, his heart fluttered and ached. He didn't know how to feel about it… because he understood the implications. There was a chance that James was starting to care about him in return. Truly care about him, which had never been a possibility before in John's mind. But still, John could not stay with James. Once the month was over, he would have to return to Sherlock. Sherlock still needed him – he hoped – and he had a life to return to. A life, a job, friends… Not even John Watson could just give everything up on the off-chance that whatever he and James had actually worked out in the end. Even so, he couldn't help but lower his hand and run it through James's hair again. This time, it was done carefully and precisely. James looked so peaceful while sleeping, his expression neutral for once. There was no need to guard anything or to be analysing, calculating, deducing, and planning every second.

Letting out a sigh, John looked back up at the telly and resumed his game. James's arms eventually wrapped around his waist, and he said nothing as he shifted to accommodate. It felt… nice to have someone wrapped around him, although he would never admit that aloud. But to have that heavy warmth on him just reminded him that he wasn't alone even though the room was quiet. Feeling content, he focused on surviving the next mission. Every now and again, James would mutter something under his breath. John was normally not paying enough attention to make out what was being said, and when he did, it wasn't very coherent. Part of John wondered why he hadn't realised that James talked in his sleep before. And then he remembered that James usually fell asleep after him and woke up before him.

Suddenly, James let out a groan. John didn't look down until he felt those arms unwrap from his body. James blinked sleepily and gazed up at him. Without thinking, John swooped down and captured those pretty lips with his own. James jerked slightly, clearly taken off guard by John's reaction, before responding and pressing back. Slowly, John reached over and set his controller on the coffee table. It freed his hands so he could tangle them in James's hair. Sighing into the kiss, he allowed himself to be shoved back down onto the sofa. James's hands abruptly slid up his jumper, and his breath hitched a moment as James started to knead and tease his nipples. John let out a groan before thrusting his tongue into James's mouth, exploring it languidly. Every movement was precise as he started in the front and shifted back, licking, feeling, and memorising the responses for each movement – if James's breath hitched or if he made a small noise in the back of his throat. Everything fascinated John about it. He was the one who incited these reactions, and that gave him a sense of pride. Not once did James make a noise of complaint or try to make him hurry up. Once John pulled back, though, he broke the kiss and immediately bit down on John's neck, causing him to gasp as pain mixed with pleasure.

Once satisfied, James reclined and removed a hand from John's jumper. "Do you know why I prefer bruises?" he inquired softly, tracing out the mark tenderly. It was just adding to John's repertoire of other marks.

"No."

"They require up-keep," James explained quietly, his eyes roaming to the other couple of bruises that were still visible on John's neck. "They fade over time, after all, so I have to keep making new ones. And bite marks… only I have this set of teeth. They will be able to match up those bites with my dental records. Well, if I had dental records on file. But it's another way to let everyone know that they're not allowed to touch you."

Laughing at this, John retorted, "What other people? The only person I ever see is Moran, and there's no way that something is going to happen between me and him."

James didn't answer John's question either way, instead opting to tug John's jumper off and undo his trousers. Lowering himself, he began to leave more love bites across John's chest as he kneaded John's nearly painful erection through his trousers. Pain mixed wonderfully with pleasure, and John moaned before bucking into James's hand. Pulling down John's pants slowly, James lowered himself between John's legs before quietly murmuring, "Even after you leave, I want people to know."

"Wha-?" John started to ask. However, James wrapped his lips around John's cock and slammed down to the base, deep throating him in one go. Immediately, John lost his train of thought as James started roughly sucking him, his head bobbing up and down quickly as he alternated between humming and grazing his teeth down the shaft's length. His mouth felt incredible still, so warm and tight. The flick of tongue at the tip, the swirl around the glans, the swallow once at the base again – everything was done to drive John closer to the edge. "F-Fuck, James!"

Pulling off with a pop, James grinned up at John. "Is that what you would like to do now?" he inquired huskily.

"Yes," John breathed out.

"Flip over."

John complied as James slicked his fingers in his mouth. Suddenly, John felt two fingers plunge into his body. The feeling of having something inside of him was still strange, but no longer unwelcomed. Once James managed to strike his prostate, he let out a low moan of approval. Meanwhile, James's other hand moved down and began fumbling around in an attempt to undo his own trousers. There was a moment of pause as James shoved them and his pants down to his knees before everything resumed. Spreading his legs further, John gasped when he felt James's lips on the back of his neck. Slowly, kisses trailed until halfway down his spine. Then John felt James shift upwards again. Right when his prostate was hit once more, John felt James lick up the right side of his neck. He twisted his head instinctively, giving James better access, and bucked back on James's hand. Chuckling, James moved back down before sinking his teeth into John's clavicle. Letting out a yelp, John felt his cock twitch as the danger that came from pain mixed perfectly with pleasure. Gradually, the thrusts became rough and fast, and James started teasing him by not striking the prostate again.

"James!" John moaned out, needing more than what he was receiving.

"I know, I know," James soothed as he removed his fingers.

There was a long moment of silence and no touching whatsoever, leaving John wanting for longer than he expected. Just as he was about to turn around, he felt a slicked tip press against his entrance. Where James was hiding lube in the living room, John didn't know – and he wasn't sure that he wanted to know. With one thrust, James went in to the hilt, his balls smacking into John's arse. John let out a cry of pleasure at the roughness of their coupling, dulled only by the burn of being stretched enough to accommodate James's size, and braced himself against the sofa. Pulling out nearly all the way, James snapped his hips back in and let out a grunt. John groaned in appreciation as he felt his prostate hit, sending a rush of ecstasy through his body. Suddenly, James's left hand, which had been on John's hip, moved. At first, John thought James was going to start stroking his erection to give John back some of the pleasure that he was experiencing. However, John felt James's weight shift forward. By the time he realised what James was doing, it was too late to say anything. He felt a hand clamp down on his injured shoulder, and it felt like he was being stabbed. Screaming out in pain, John jerked away from James and clutched his shoulder as it continued to throb.

"John!" James called out in surprise and concern, immediately pulling out of John's body.

As he reached out, John snarled, "Don't touch me!"

He curled into himself, whimpering as his shoulder gave a few more spasms. God, he was nearly infuriated. James knew from that one day - that it could possibly send John into a PTSD episode - and should have left his scar alone! Tears of pain rolled down his cheeks as his previously inactive nerve cells fired off angrily. Minutes ticked by slowly as his shoulder went from a stabbing pain to a hard throb and back. During this time, John would cry or groan in pain or yell angrily or whimper as he slowly rocked himself. Eventually, it subsided to an ever-present ache, and he could finally start taking in other information. He was now completely flaccid, his breathing was ragged, and his body was still slightly trembling from the rush of pain and adrenaline. James was standing just a meter away, watching John carefully, looking half-fascinated and half-alarmed. Even so, he made no move towards John, which is something that he appreciated greatly.

"Are you alright?" James inquired softly.

"What do you think?" John wanted to snap. He wanted to tell James off for causing him such pain. He wanted to point out that he told James that his wound still sometimes hurt him. James, of all people, should have been paying attention and refrained from touching his bloody scar! And yet he managed to control himself. He was a soldier, for Christ's sake. Self-control was in his nature. "I'll be fine," John finally snapped as he slowly sat up and favoured his left shoulder and arm.

Without missing a beat, James pointed out quietly, "That's not what I asked."

John was shocked, his anger curbed for a moment as he realised that James was actually concerned about him. Blinking, he stared at James for a long moment. "I've been better," he finally confessed, rubbing his shoulder while being mindful to not knead it. He glanced down James's also flaccid cock. Apparently, the mood had been ruined for both of them.

"It's not an issue," James told him as he reached down to pull on his pants. He must have noticed John looking.

Quietly, John grabbed his pants as well, carefully pulling them on despite the soreness. The silence that followed as they got dressed was uncomfortable and awkward. Sitting on the sofa, John rubbed his hands together and glanced around. For the most part, his anger had died down. His shoulder still hurt like a bit, and he was frustrated that the entire incident had happened at all. It was something done in the moment, he reminded himself. God, he needed something else to talk about. Anything else. And yet this remained a blaring topic that needed further discussion. Even so, John wasn't in the mood to start down that conversational route. It would lead nowhere good for them, and he honestly just wanted to move forward with the day. But he still had to say something about it. To make it clear that he was fine for the most part.

"They say you learn something new every day, you know," John finally pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact.

James looked down at him just as John glanced up. Their eyes met, and James slowly cracked a smile. Suddenly, he started laughing, collapsing into the sofa as he did so. Surprised, John wasn't sure how to react as James continued to laugh hysterically. It slowly started to get to him, though, and before John knew it, he was laughing as well. The two of them cackled until the sudden bout of mirth ended. Leaning into each other, both gasped for proper breath.

"After all that, the only thing you could think of to say was that?" James queried incredulously.

Grinning, John answered, "What should I have said instead? 'That hurt like a bitch,' perhaps?"

"Probably would have been a more proper response," James pointed out.

"And since when were you concerned about what was 'proper,' James Moriarty?" John retorted teasingly, nudging him with his good shoulder. His bad one still ached.

"You could have yelled at me for being so unobservant and too eager," James pointed out matter-of-factly.

John shook his head. "I know you couldn't help it. My hot body is hard to resist, I know." There was a pause in which the atmosphere changed, becoming more solemn. "Just watch it next time, would you? I enjoy it when things are a bit rough, but even I have my limits."

James nodded sombrely. "Of course." After a moment's pause, he added, "I'm… sorry." The words took John completely off guard, and it looked like James was in pain from just saying them alone. "It was in the moment and an uncalculated move that should have never happened. It won't be repeated, John."

"I know," John stated. "I trust you."

There was a flash of surprise that crossed James's face for just a split second before it was carefully masked. John supposed what he just said was rather surprising. After all, just a month ago, he would have laughed someone out of the room if they told him that he would place any of his trust in James Moriarty. Glancing around the room for a distraction, he noticed the video game was still on.

Nodding towards the television, John inquired, "Do you play?"

"No," James informed him.

"Want to learn how?"

James smirked slightly. "I thought I already learned my one new thing of the day," he noted nonchalantly, leaning back into the sofa and looking somewhat bored. Apparently, he was going to make John work for it.

"And how many days have passed by without you learning anything new?" John pointed out as he picked up both controllers. Holding one out to James, he said, "Come on. It'll be good for you. You'll get to kill things, and not a single life will be lost. Take out your frustrations on a bunch of computer generated people. I'm sure you will find it fascinating to figure out how many different ways you can kill someone in this game."

After a couple moments of silence, James silently took the controller from John's hands. John grinned, ending his game and turning a new two-player mission on. Leaning over, John pointed at the A button. "That's jump," he explained softly, smiling to himself as James started examining the controller more closely. He carefully clarified every button and trigger's function before turning on a mission, making sure it was on easy more for his own sake than for James's. As they played through the first one, James picked everything up much faster than he had. Before he knew it, James was protecting John from being killed in the game. Every now and again, something would happen that caused them to laugh or to jokingly banter back and forth about whose fault it was. It was only when John's stomach rumbled that they realised how late it had gotten.

"Dinner?" John asked, glancing over at James.

"Yeah. Let's go out for it."

Perking up, John inquired, "Where?"

"Somewhere small without CCTV cameras surrounding it," James responded, pulling out his mobile and beginning to skim through several files.

Turning off the television, John made sure to leave the game station on so they could continue from where they had left off. James grabbed his tie and put it on before heading towards the front door. This was exciting. John was being trusted more. Taken out to restaurants was a step up from a café or the park. It was a step forward in their relationship, ironically enough.

"John," James called out, catching John's attention.

"Coming."

John pulled on a jacket over his jumper and followed James out of the flat. A step forward – but towards what? Nothing, he reminded himself. And he wasn't going to say that he was in love to James. He would never admit how much it meant to him that James cared, in his own way, about John. Never. Because nothing good could come of that. Even so, he couldn't help but feel a small fluttering in his chest when James turned back and smiled at him.