"Are you being serious?" John inquired, slightly flabbergasted.

They had been in the middle of prepping – and just before John was on the verge of begging to be taken – when James had informed him that he wanted to tie John's hands to the headboard. Even now, John still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the situation. It wasn't as if he wasn't a bit adventurous in bed, but he had never allowed himself to lose such control before with a partner. What James was asking of him was new. Naturally, he was a bit hesitant.

"You said you trusted me," James pointed out, holding his tie in one hand as his other one continued to stretch John out.

Shifting slightly, John responded, "That's true, but this isn't a matter of trust."

"Yes, it is," James cut in.

"No, it's not. It's a matter of me feeling comfortable about this."

James frowned. "Which you would feel comfortable with if you trusted me."

"It's not that simple, and you know it," John objected before James purposefully hit his prostate. Gasping, he arched his back and instinctively bucked down onto James's hand. "You teasing bastard!" he cursed as he felt James then start to strike around his prostate instead.

Smirking, James pressed, "Is that a 'yes' or a 'no' then?"

John paused a moment, able to block everything out long enough to think. Technically, it had been four days since James grabbed John's shoulder during sexual intercourse. Four days for them was like four months for other people. They just couldn't live on the same time schedule, all things considered. And it was true that John trusted James to an extent. By now, he honestly didn't believe that James would tie him up, fuck him hard, and then leave John strapped down once he was through. "You have to agree to release me the moment I ask you to," John finally responded.

James's eyes lit up excitedly, and he nodded his head. "Of course," he concurred, removing his hand from John's arse. "Hands through the headboard." The headboard itself was wooden with different sized rectangles and squares cut out of it. Although John didn't understand how it was practical, as it wasn't always the most comfortable thing to lean against, he could understand why James would want it if he enjoyed tying up his partners in bed. Sliding his hands through two openings, John waited in anticipation. James's hands moved swiftly, looping his tie twice, setting the two loops slightly over one another, and drawing the two sides in and through in order to create what appeared to be rope handcuffs. He slid his hands through before hooking each loop around one of John's hands and pulling them tight. "Secure?" he inquired after a couple of moments.

John pulled at the restraints lightly at first before really giving them a few hard tugs. "Secure," he confirmed before looking down at James.

Once their eyes met, James let out a moan, swooping down and capturing John's lips with his own. Tongues slid across one another playfully, and John leaned up as much as he could in order to return the kiss. Slowly, James broke away before reaching over and grabbing the lube again. He slicked himself, hissing in need as he gave himself a few hard strokes, before sinking down John's body once more. His hands pushed up on John's legs, forcing them up and apart more and leaving John vulnerable. Sucking in a deep breath, John watched as James lined himself up with John's entrance and gradually breached into John's body. He tossed back his head and let out a moan as he felt himself being filled again. How he had ever gone without this was beyond him. By now, James had come to fit inside him perfectly, and he knew exactly how to touch John to get and keep him going.

"You look perfect like this," James stated as he slowly thrust in and out of John's body. John was surprised that he was actually speaking. "Tied up. At my mercy. I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and all you would be able to do is take it." John knew this was all true. Honestly, he should be frightened by the fact that he had given control to James Moriarty, of all people, but the adrenaline that rushed through him was from ecstasy, not fear. Suddenly, James gave a sharp snap of his hips into John's body, and he gasped in response. "If I wanted to, I could fuck you so slowly that you begged me to take you harder… faster…" Another sharp thrust complimented that statement, and John arched his back as his prostate was finally stimulated. For once, he realised just how fortunate it was for him that James didn't make too much noise in bed. He wasn't sure that he would be able to handle all this sex with the images that James was providing him with pushing him that much closer to the edge. "But I suppose I should save that for another time."

With that, John felt a slicked hand wrap around his weeping erection. James began to stroke him as his thrusts became faster and rougher. Moaning, John yanked down on his restraints, trying desperately to break them in order to touch James – to grab him – to claw at him – to bring him closer. However, the knot remained strong, and John found that he was truly at James's mercy. James pounded into him, just the way John liked to be taken, as he tried to strike the prostate whenever possible. Meanwhile, his hand stroked John, giving a twist of his wrist up the shaft and then a flick of thumb at the sensitive tip. John was a moaning, writhing mess. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he should buck down onto James's cock or thrust up into his hand. All he knew was that he was reaching his climax much sooner than he wanted or anticipated. Tensing up, John called out James's name desperately as he tried to convey what was happening. James grunted in response before stroking John harder. Finally, that tight coil in his stomach came undone, and he screamed out James's name as he covered his own stomach with his seed.

As soon as John came down from his orgasm, James's hands both locked firmly on his hips. John had just enough sense about him to keep his arse tight for James's pleasure. Pounding into him harder now than before, James gasped and fought to keep himself under control. Before either of them knew it, he went rigid, slamming his cock into John's body hard as he climaxed. Moaning and panting out John's name, he rode it out before pulling out entirely. He reached down and removed the now soiled condom. After tossing it in the bin, he leaned back down and kissed up John's neck. His hands idly fumbled with the restraints, releasing John as soon as he could. Sighing, John brought James up before a long, languid kiss. He completely enjoyed the post-coital bliss that happened after one of their particularly rough encounters. Eventually, the kiss broke, and James collapsed on the bed next to John.

"We finally made it to the bedroom for once," John noted jokingly.

Chuckling, James answered, "I know it doesn't happen often-"

"Ever."

"-but I suppose a change of scenery was nice," he finished, as if John had never said a word.

A moment of silence passed between the two of them. "Thank you for compromising on the condom," John said softly.

"You didn't give me much of a choice. It was that or cleaning you out myself in the shower, which would take way too much time and effort."

Suddenly, James was cut off by his mobile phone ringing. Hearing the "Staying Alive" ringtone, John flinched and felt adrenaline surge through his system. His eyes were wide and alert. It was like he could feel that weight on his chest all over again. The bomb dragging him down and hindering his movements. Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to get himself to calm down. After all, he was in a bedroom right now. There was no bomb. There were no snipers. All things considered, he was remarkably safe.

Without missing a beat, James snatched the phone up from the nightstand and glanced down at it before answering, "Give me a moment." Lowering the phone, he looked at John questioningly. "What was that all abo-" His voice trailed as his eyes widened in realisation. "Oh…" he said softly, staring at John in fascination. "Are you really still bothered by that?"

"You strapped a bomb to me. What do you think?" he snapped back, crossing his arms over his chest. John had never spoken about that night to anyone after he posted about it on his blog. Part of him was relieved that some thought it was just an April Fool's trick and others brushed it off as a glamourized rendition of what happened.

James brought the mobile back up to his ear. "Unless it's an emergency, Sebastian, I'm going to have to call you back." He paused a moment before nodding and hanging up the phone. "I suppose that we should talk about this."

"It seems to be the elephant in the room, yes," John concurred as James slipped back into bed with him. He shifted away ever so slightly. He supposed that this conversation was bound to come up sooner or later. Honestly, part of him had wished that they had avoided it entirely until John left for 221B again. James looked at him expectantly. "Well, what do you expect me to say?"

"Actually, I was expecting for you to want something from me instead," James stated matter-of-factly. "Like an explanation."

John sucked in a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. "You strapped a bomb to me to get Sherlock's attention, and it worked splendidly. You two seemed quite excited to be able to see each other face-to-face at last. What more is there to explain?" he inquired bitterly.

Sighing, James reached out slightly but stopped. John was glad. At this moment, he didn't want to be touched. He didn't want any physical affection between them. "I had to use you to get Sherlock's attention. At the time, I had to make a statement."

"Oh? Do tell."

James glared at him. "I had to show Sherlock what I was capable of. The only way to get him to back off was to show him that I could take away the important things in his life. You happened to be one of them," he explained.

"And you couldn't have done that any other way?" John snapped, rising out of the bed in indignity. "I was scared out of my mind, James. Grabbed on the street by a taxi driver. Knocked out. Woke up to the smell of chlorine and with a bomb strapped to me. Beaten just a bit before you came in. Tossed into the mix. When I grabbed you and was forced off, I thought for sure that I was going to die. Survived Afghanistan only to die in a sports centre, of all places!" John was yelling towards the end of it. Finally, he was getting all that weight off his chest. He was saying everything he wanted to say and yet never could. And he was getting to tell it to the one person he wanted to hear every last word. "Do you know how long it took me before I felt comfortable walking around on the streets again? Before I didn't flinch when a taxi slowed down next to me? How long it took before I walked down the street I was taken from? And then when the nightmares finally stopped?"

James watched him passively, not saying a word in his defence nor trying to cut into John's tirade at all. Once John stopped, he waited a bit longer to make sure that he had nothing else to add. After a long moment of silence passed, he took in a deep breath. "What do you want from me, John? To apologise? Sincerely, even? It's not going to change anything, you know. It's not going to take away those sleepless nights you had. Nor is it going to take away all those frights you had on the streets. So tell me what it is that you're expecting from me? What on Earth could I possibly give you?"

"A proper apology would be nice, yes, but I just want-" John paused a moment, floundering a bit. What did he want? James was right, after all. An apology would mean nothing to him. It was too late, and it would take nothing that happened back. "I just… I want a proper explanation, I suppose. Hell, why don't you just do that mind trick on me where you make everything alright?"

James scoffed as he heard this. "You mean tell you the truth that you so love hearing from me?" he pressed. "Because that has always gone over so well in the past."

"I just…" John started before shaking his head. "You know what? Forget I said anything. Just try to keep that bloody ringtone down, would you?" With that, he turned on his heels and headed towards the door. He needed to get something to drink.

"You caught my attention at the pool," James called out, causing John to stop. "I admit that I used you as a pawn before in order to get Sherlock's attention. I underestimated you. When I saw you on the ground being attacked and ridiculed by my own men… well… I just couldn't allow that. If any harm were to come to you, it should be in front of Sherlock. So he could see what I was capable of. Anything less would be counterproductive. Or, at least, that's what I convinced myself."

John remained with his back to James as he listened. He didn't want to see James's expression as it might throw him off. Tone of voice was enough. After all, John had a keen ear. He could hear the stress in each syllable – the pitch – the weighed words. As far as he could hear, James was telling him the truth. Closing his eyes, John remained silent as he continued to listen.

"To speak with perfect candour, I was intrigued by you. More so as the night went on. You were loyal. You were not just going to grovel and submit to anyone. When I felt your arms lock around me… It was one of the most exhilarating things I had ever experienced. Think about it, John. What if Sherlock had listened to your advice? What if he had left you as you requested? What would have kept me from killing you?" He paused a moment, letting those words sink in. "Nothing, John. Absolutely nothing. You would have ruined my plan, and for all you knew, I might have very well killed you in my anger. And yet you still tried to save the day. You tried to save your best friend even if it cost you your own life. And you were not even paid to do so. I can't even begin to tell you how fascinating that is."

John remained still for a long moment, waiting for James to continue. Only silence remained between them. For a moment, he took everything in. It was a lot of information. Hell, if John had been an idiot, he could have very well easily taken it as a love confession. But, despite what Sherlock told him, he wasn't an idiot. "I don't feel any better," he jested lightly. It wasn't the complete truth. After all, it had opened up his eyes a bit more as to what was going on that night. Seeing it from Moriarty's eyes was… refreshing, he supposed. But he had been right. It didn't change anything that happened.

"I told you that it wouldn't do anything for you," James pointed out. John heard a rustling from the bed, and he remained still as footsteps got closer to him. "But if everyone remained locked on the past, we would still be having crusades." He stopped so close that John could practically feel the heat radiate from James's body. "Come back to bed, Johnny. A glass of water is going to do you no good by now."

Hesitating a moment, John eventually relaxed and turned back around. James was smiling softly – or smirking. John couldn't really tell. "Fine," he murmured. "You should probably call Moran back anyway."

"Indeed," James replied. Heading back over to the bed, he put back on his pants and pyjama trousers before grabbing his phone and heading out of the room. John knew better than to follow.

Tugging on his own pants, John clambered back into bed and laid there. So he had piqued James's interest beforehand. Of course, it was only after he set his life on the line and without any monetary gain to boot. He supposed that he could expect nothing less from James Moriarty, though. Loyalty through fear could only last so long, after all. Eventually, people reach the end of their ropes and try to bite back. Moriarty always had to be prepared for that moment. So it wasn't surprising that he was intrigued by genuine loyalty. Even so, John would be surprised if Moran would betray Moriarty. After all, Moriarty probably was to Moran what Sherlock was to John. A life saviour of sorts. Someone to prove that there was a place in this world for them. That they were useful here. Because after the war, that fact was sometimes lost. It was hard to acclimate to civilian life, and just writing a blog sure as Hell wasn't going to help him do it. But running after serial killers and forgers and all manner of criminals? Well, it wasn't a perfect acclimation, but it would do.

Letting out a sigh, John closed his eyes. He missed Sherlock still, although that was hardly surprising. The first time John went overseas, it took him three months before he was no longer consistently homesick. After his parents passed, there was less of a reason to miss home. After all, he and Harry had never been particularly close, and he didn't have any other connections to speak of. And then Sherlock happened, and with Sherlock came Mrs Hudson, who was now like a second mother to him, and Mycroft and Lestrade and Molly. In fact, Sherlock had a lot more friends than he led on, and John had managed to make connections with all of them. His own little cluster of close friends. Hell, once he got back, he might just start taking Lestrade up on getting that pint he had been offering for a while. It would probably do him some good to get out and be with someone besides Sherlock or Mycroft.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom opened. Deepening his breathing rhythm, John didn't move as James slipped back into bed. He heard the click of the mobile on the nightstand, and he shifted enough to get comfortable again once James was in bed with him. Very slowly, James shifted over and pressed up against John's back. "You're a terrible actor," he whispered in John's ear as their bodies slotted together. An arm snaked around John's waist. "Not that I mind, of course. It's always interesting to figure out why you feel the need to do certain things. Like pretend to be sleeping."

"Maybe because I wanted to go to sleep and not talk anymore," John responded sarcastically.

"Harsh, Johnny-boy. Harsh."

Exhaling deeply, he let his arm fall on top of James's. "And why are you suddenly so affectionate?"

"Easy. The song invoked memories that you would much rather stay hidden. Tonight has just turned into a high risk night for your night terrors because of it. Your night terrors stop when there's contact between us. And to be perfectly honest, I would like to get a peaceful night's sleep."

"You could always sleep somewhere else, you know," John pointed out bitterly.

James scoffed. "This is my primary flat. I have all right to sleep here."

"Then send me to a different flat."

Humming, James responded, "No."

"And why not? It can't be that hard for you, and if I'm keeping you from your precious sleep then you should just do away with me," John snapped back, almost ready to get up and leave.

James's arms tightened around, as if he could read his mind. "You've already made yourself at home here, and there's hardly any point of moving, what with how much time is left before you go. And then I would have to put up another security system into a new flat, which costs more than it should, really. I could probably make a better system for a third of the price, but that's just too tedious. Besides, I'm willing to deal with everything quietly. You should be grateful, not defensive."

John remained silent for a long moment, teetering on the edge of asking but not entirely sure he wanted to know. Finally, he inquired, "Have I – has it been bad lately? The night terrors, I mean."

James hummed in response. "Not last night, no. But the two days before that, yes. There's no need to worry, though. It's nothing that I can't handle, and they stop after a while. But as I said before, they don't start up if there is some physical contact between us. Hence this."

Sighing, John slowly relaxed in the embrace. "Good night then, James."

"Good night, John."