The flat and home of James Moriarty was stately and very clean. Sherlock didn't take the time to notice as he and Jim were already stripping each other of their clothes. Sherlock stumbled as he tried to wriggle out of his trousers, earning a chuckle from Jim.
"Let me help you with those, my dear," he purred, pushing the taller man against the wall. He slid the fabric from slender, pale legs and cast the slacks aside, standing straight up again. Sherlock smiled at him and pulled him into a hungry kiss. Jim backed up, pulling the detective toward his bedroom.
They collapsed on the bed ungracefully, managing to smack foreheads. They both chuckled breathlessly and mumble a 'sorry'. Jim shifted back toward the pillows, managing to kick the duvet and sheet halfway off the bed. Sherlock kicked them off the rest of the way and crawled over the shorter man.
"Well, that was… less than extraordinary," Sherlock commented. "Let's hope that's not an omen for the rest of this event."
Jim chuckled. "I certainly hope not, but then… I've never believe in a thing like omens. Lube is in the nightstand drawer. Condoms, too, but… I'm clean and I'd like to feel more of you."
Sherlock nodded. "I'm clean, too. I had a blood test when Mycroft sent me to rehab," he explained. He leaned over to open the nightstand drawer and reached in blindly. He grabbed what he thought was a bottle of lubricant, but instead, was a smooth black vibrator. The consulting detective raised an eyebrow and looked at James.
Jim laughed and shrugged. "Consulting criminals get lonely, too. If you dig deeper, there may be a sticky photo of you, too," he teased.
Sherlock rolled his eyes playfully. "This toy may come in useful later, but for now it's just you and me." He dropped the vibrator back into the drawer and produced the bottle of lubricant instead. Sherlock sat up on his knees between Moriarty's legs. "Are you sure you want me to top?"
"I don't see why not. It seems the easiest way to start since you're already on top and given the height difference."
Sherlock nodded and spread lube over two of his fingers. "Spread for me, beautiful," he muttered. Jim moaned softly as did as he was told, his cock standing straight up between his legs and twitching slightly under Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock reached down with his lubed hand and traced circles around the puckered flesh.
Moriarty gasped. "Bloody hell, your fingers are cold," he whimpered, cursing.
"Then I should warm them up." Sherlock smirked and inserted the tip of one finger into his enemy-turned-lover's entrance. Jim gasped and gripped the sheets. When he relaxed, Sherlock slowly eased his finger father inside, earning a stifled groan from the throat of the consulting criminal. Sherlock worked his finger in and out slowly until Jim was whimpering and begging for more. The detective obliged, adding a second finger and working Jim deeper and faster. Eager to open him further, he began a scissoring motion with his fingers, spreading the man beneath him wider.
When Sherlock brushed his prostate, Moriarty let out a gasping moan, lifting his hips slightly from the bed. His cock throbbed with need and was leaking a thin trail of pre-cum. Sweat beaded his brow and his chest heaved with panting breaths. Sherlock's eyes were dark with lust and he noted how beautiful Jim was when he was vulnerable and needy. He crooked his fingers and worked the other man more, rubbing against his prostate. James moaned louder and arched off the bed, dangerously close to the edge of his orgasm. Abruptly, Sherlock removed his fingers, denying Jim the release his sought. Jim whined in protest.
"You're a cruel man, Sherlock Holmes," he panted.
"You think me cruel now," Sherlock purred, "but you'll thank me when your world shatters when I finally allow your orgasm." Jim's eyes rolled back and he shuddered at the thought. Sherlock gave a brief moment to allow Jim to relax. He gently squeezed the base of Jim's cock to delay his orgasm while stroking his own member slowly.