A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, busy with school. (Damn you exams) but thankyouthankyouthankyou for the lovely reviews!
This is unbeta-ed and may be a little OOC sorry but I love this pairing so much. There will soon be some Johnlock don't you worry. But here's a little something to tide you over. *kisses* - AA
James Moriarty, the most dangerous criminal mastermind you would ever meet, opened his eyes and sighed.
It wasn't one of those sighs he'd use when he was boooooored, bored of life, bored of people, bored of being here. Those were short, angry sighs with hands all over the place and a pained expression on his face; it was a sigh that moved his entire body: eyes closed, heave in, and exhale. It was a deeply relaxing and contented sigh.
He was currently enmeshed in fluffy white sheets that had been clean on the night before (and would probably need cleaning again after last night.) He gradually became aware of the rest of his body and the soft cotton sheets rubbing against his upper thigh and neck where he'd pulled them up against the cold in the night, the sheets around his midriff were thrown aside however. He had his sniper to warm him against the chilly London air, strong legs curled around his waist made sure of that. Seb radiated heat 24/7; he was Jim's personal space heater. The genius supposed he got it from being on cold rooftops constantly, he'd adapted. James felt Sebastian's hot breath warm on the nape of his neck and was glad of it. He liked to know the man was close.
Jim breathed in the smells of the room. The pollution in the night air from the window they'd left open, the salmon he'd cremated in an attempt to make dinner and the Thai food they'd eventually ordered, and he could smell the smell of sex and sweat and Seb's cologne and his slightly spicy scent. Maybe it was his shampoo. Jim made a reminder to keep a perpetual supply of it.
The room was silent (In contrast to last night when it was filled with soft moans graduating to stuttered words "please." "God, yes" which turned into almost screams of passion.) Now all he could hear was Seb's regular breaths. Strong and steady and confident like the man himself, they were slow and measured, never wavering from their path. The birds cheeping were just a shame. It disturbed his peace. Another reminder: shoot birds. Then all at once "AND YOU CAN TELL BY THE WAY I WALK MY WALK, I'M A WOMAN'S MAN, NO TIME TO TALK." Ugh his ring tone. Who was phoning him now? He leaned up on his elbow and reached over to see. A policeman he'd corrupted, probably worried about being found out, he was quite tan so he'd make a good pair of shoes Jim thought as he silenced the phone.
"Hmmm, Jim?" Sebastian had been roused by the stupid phone call, a shame; Jim had liked watching the man sleep. Not creepily, obviously. Awake, Sebastian was all clenched fists and tensed muscles; like this he looked innocent and stress less, his skin glowed brown from laying on rooftops and his expression was one of complete bliss. He loved seeing Seb like this, his golden crop of hair deliciously tussled, although he felt slightly guilty that he couldn't make Seb more relaxed in the daytime. He laughed softly to himself at the irony. Jim killed people (well had them killed,) made them into shoes, committed the most audacious crimes yet the only thing, the only man, that could make him feel anything was ex corp. Seb Moran. With sunlight streaming through the gap in the blind casting a mellowed light across the room: Sebastian's skin contrasted exquisitely. Jim could've taken him right there.
James himself was brought out of his reverie by soft, pink lips grazing his in a lazy kiss. "Jim what are you thinking of? You've got that look." Jim smiled into those inquisitive, hard, blue eyes and licked his lips. Sebastian tasted of coffee from the night before and peppermint where he had brushed his teeth; there was something different though, under the peppermint. It tasted of London, smoke. Jim deduced Seb had started smoking again and enjoyed the thought of Sebastian smoking on their balcony once more. It made him look utterly gorgeous. There was also something else. It was spicy and exotic and dangerous, it was Seb. Jim loved it. Jim loved Seb.
"What look do I have Sebby daaaarling?" Jim inquired.
"The look you get when you're watching a building burn or like when you played the CCTV of Sherlock's funeral. Coffee? " Sebastian answered whilst getting up out of bed, ignoring Jim's indignant squeals, and sauntering into the kitchen. Jim followed him and snaked his arms around the taller man's waist as he chopped melon for breakfast (The Consulting Criminal's favourite.) he rested his head on Sebastian's shoulder blades and spoke into the silence.
"I love you Sebby."
The occupants of the flat next door would then hear the surprised cry of The Consulting Criminal as his bedfellow chopped the tip of his finger off in the sheer shock of James Moriarty admitting to such a weakness, and if they had been in the flat half an hour later they would see The Sniper kissing Jim's fingertips as he bandaged them in gauze and whispering "I love you too James."