The way Moriarty was now gripping onto John was not dissimilar to that of a snake, tightening his hold with every little struggle John made. Moriarty loved the feeling of John writhing beneath him, every twitch and strain of the doctor's muscles sent sparks of unadulterated pleasure straight to Jim's cock. Every moan and whine was like music to his ears. He couldn't wait to hear those whines turn into screams.

"Oh dear, hold on. My poor Westwood, it'll get creased. Give me a second Doctor Watson," Moriarty droned, shifting himself off of John and removing his jacket. He laid it on the empty, coverless bed beside them and undid his shirt cuffs.

"Be a good boy for me and roll over…" he instructed, glaring down at John as if he was a dog being trained by its merciless master.

When John refused, Moriarty leant down again and snarled, smacking his face so hard that the hotel room echoed with a resounding thwack. The force of it caused John to huff and turn over obediently, now lying on his stomach. He decided that the only way to get through this was to not give Moriarty what he wanted. He wanted to see John enjoying it and giving in. Moriarty wanted to get to Sherlock, not entirely by hurting John, but by damaging him psychologically – making him feel guilt for the pleasure of the onslaught. John bit his lip and vowed not to enjoy any of it. How could he possibly enjoy a rape anyway? Moriarty wasn't making any sense.

Suddenly he felt the weight of the other man on top of him. Moriarty had straddled his hips and leant down to kiss tenderly up the side of John's neck. It was as if he was kissing a lover, slow, languid movements of his lips and his tongue, wetting John's skin and making it shine in the dull, low light of the seedy room. John winced when he remembered his belt was undone, for Moriarty now had no trouble in drawing John's trousers down a little so they settled just above his knees.

"I'm not going to enjoy this… You want me to, but you should know that it's impossible."

Moriarty chuckled and moved back up, tracing kisses down the back of John's neck, feeling the older man tremble under him.

"I won't force you to beg, Johnny boy, you'll do that all by yourself…" And with that, he pressed his own hips down against John's, letting him feel his cock slide insistently against his arse.

John tensed and held his breath for a moment, biting back a sob as Moriarty pulled down his boxers, exposing him. The criminal smiled to himself as he stroked down the curve of John's back to his arse. He looked rather good for such an ordinary person. Moriarty undid his own trousers, and began to stroke himself, all the while gazing down at John's vulnerable form. A crazed grin began to appear on Jim's face as he pushed himself at John's entrance.

"No no no no no," John muttered quietly to himself, clenching his hands into fists and unclenching them again, desperate to do anything in this position to ease the burning pain now shooting through his body.

"Oh this feels soooo wonderful doesn't it?" Moriarty crooned loudly, snapping his hips forward despite the lack of lubricant, causing John to yell. "I've always imagined this. Hmm I wonder if Sherlock would be struggler? Or maybe he'd enjoy it…"

John wondered if Moriarty actually had trained killers onto Sherlock right now. Maybe he didn't. Maybe that was a simple lie. But John didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to shove Moriarty off, only to see the consulting criminal grab his phone and dictate the slow death of Sherlock to a random assassin.

He'd have to endure it.

Through all the pain and the pulsing of Jim's cock inside him, John felt a strange pleasurable wave. He couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips when Jim hit his prostate.

"Look at this. The little pet is enjoying it…"

"No, no I'm… not." John panted, his voice coming out in a growl.

Moriarty thrusted harder now, fucking John against the floor and holding him down as the man began to cry out.

"I think you're hard aren't you, Johnny boy?" Moriarty whispered, "I think you simply love this."

He pulled out suddenly, causing John to moan at the sudden feeling of emptiness. His cock was aching, though he wouldn't admit that to Moriarty. No. But he needed some release. Strangely enough, something had felt good, even pleasurable. John felt bile rise in his throat and he thought he was going to vomit. No no no, he couldn't want more. He just couldn't. How was Moriarty doing this?

John turned his head and glanced back at Jim who was smiling evilly and waiting. Waiting for what?

"What are you doing?" John asked, setting his jaw as to stop himself from appearing weak.

"Lift your hips a little…"

Moriarty's Irish accent was more pronounced with his breathlessness and he grinned when John got onto his hands and knees. "You're more willing than I thought…" he chuckled, reaching around and stroking John into full hardness.

John gasped and then bit his lip down as a punishment to himself.

"What do you want little pet? Hmm? Do you want to come? Do you want some relief? I can see you do. I'm observant, you see, like Sherlock. Sweet, sweet Sherlock. Oh I cannot wait to get him. It turns me on just imagining his blood, just imagining his pain. Hearing that deep voice trying to be all clever. Ohhh delicious."

John felt searing pain again when Moriarty pushed back inside him, harder this time and much faster. At the same time, his own cock was desperate for attention, but Moriarty had plans for that, oh yes. He folded himself over John so that his lips reached the good doctor's left ear.

"Touch yourself."

"No."

"Do it."

John groaned at the stabs of pain as Moriarty dug his nails into his hips. He moved his hand to his cock and began to stroke, slowly at first, but then he couldn't help himself. The fullness in his arse and the aching of his cock merged to make a sudden building of pleasure.

"Uhh. Oh god."

"Attaboy…"

John stroked himself harder and was disgusted to hear his own voice saying "more… deeper…"

Moriarty obliged easily and laughed to himself when the doctor finally peaked with a blissful moan, his come now all over the carpet beneath them.
Moriarty grunted and shut his eyes tightly, his own orgasm approaching quickly as John panted in a mixture of intense pleasure and pain. The criminal moaned loudly and almost dramatically as he came deep inside of John. "Oh… oh… Johnny boy who knew you felt so good?" He licked his lips and moved off the older man's body.
John shifted away, wincing in pain. But that didn't stop him from hurriedly pulling his boxers and trousers up. He was disgusted at himself, shocked and completely horrified.

He was beginning to do up his shirt when Moriarty walked over, cupping John's face in his hand. He leant forced and kissed the disgruntled doctor obscenely on the mouth before moving over and looking out of the window of the hotel room. He clicked his fingers. It only took about half a minute before two men came into the room and restrained John with handcuffs and a blindfold.

"Home time sweetheart…" Moriarty sang. "Give my love to that sexy piece of man you've got waiting at home. He'll be mine for the taking someday. Oh, and don't forget, I have your begs and pleads recorded. Maybe one day the gorgeous Sherlock will get to hear it all."

John's mouth hung open in shock but then he shook his head, not believing a word of it. The two men dragged him outside and into the waiting car. The blindfold and handcuffs meant he had to squirm around uncomfortably in the back seat.

For once in his life, he was conflicted as to whether he wanted to confide in Sherlock.

...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you want more, just leave a review or something. :) I don't know whether to carry this on or not. But thanks for reading guys! I've never written anything so dark so it was kinda scary for me to even attempt this! Lots of love, x