"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock's voice was steely and it sent a thrill through Jim's body. Playing dumb? Maybe a little, but it was likely that Sherlock truly didn't understand what Jim was getting at and that just made it all the more delicious.
He slid his hands into his pockets and looked up at the detective from under long eyelashes, smirking. "Our mutual friend — Ms. Adler — did she ever tell you about the nickname I have for you?"
Sherlock's mouth tightened.
"Say it, Sherlock. Do it for Daddy."
Sherlock exhaled impatiently through his nose. "The Virgin."
Jim's smirk morphed into a deadly smile. "Well, after we're done here, I won't able to call you that anymore."
Sherlock frowned. "You mean …"
"Yes."
"You want to have sex … with me."
"Correction," said Jim, holding up his index finger. "I want to be the first person to have sex with you. I like new things. Unused." He dragged a finger along Sherlock's sleeve and pretended to inspect it for dirt, rubbing the pads of thumb and forefinger together. "Clean."
"Don't touch me."
"Oh, I'll be touching you all I like. And more." Jim sidled behind Sherlock and reached up, gripping his shoulders. Sherlock flinched, but did not shift away. "Take off your coat," drawled Jim. "Stay awhile." He slid the coat off Sherlock's shoulders, down his arms, and off, before carelessly tossing it in a corner.
"It won't be sex," said Sherlock tightly. "It will be rape. Is that what you want? If you intend to let John's life hang in the balance, then you can do what you like to me, but do not confuse that with consent. Or that I will willingly participate in my own assault."
"Nawwwww," said Jim, drawing out the syllable. He still stood behind Sherlock, his breath warm on the detective's neck. Sherlock made to turn around, but Jim caught his shoulders, holding him still. "Stay right there, my sweet," Jim murmured. "Daddy's going to tell you a little story. And I want you to stand still and listen. Because — and listen carefully to this part — I am going to make you want this. Because I know you need it. And I want you to have it before I kill you — which will be soon, by the way. Just soze you know."
"Oh, this is for my benefit?" spat Sherlock in disgust.
Jim laughed. "Oh no, that's just the nice spin you can put on it. I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, Sherlock. And the best part of is that you're going to love it. You just don't know it yet. You are going to die, no doubt, but not tonight. A man as delicious as yourself should not die a virgin. It's just wrong. Speaking as a man who lives for wrong."
"What makes you think you can make me want you? I've never wanted anyone."
"Lies, lies, lies," Jim sing-songed. "You want to know how I know that? Because we're the same, Sherlock."
"We are not."
"We are." Jim's voice took on a more dangerous tone for a moment. He drew his fingers over Sherlock's shoulders and down his back, tracing around his shoulder blades. "But unlike me, you've filed it all away in a little box somewhere in that huge mind of yours. Every dirty thought, every desire, every animal longing you've ever had. But it's there. And I'm going to find it."
"Take your best shot," said Sherlock disdainfully.
Jim rested his cheek against Sherlock's shoulder. "Y'know, Sherlock. It's really such a shame that we didn't meet sooner. When we were younger, and you were more, um, let's say … changeable? We could have made such a team. Nothing would have stopped us." He tugged at Sherlock's jacket and slid that off, as well, so the sleuth was down to his button-down shirt.
"A love story for the ages," said Sherlock sarcastically.
Jim's mouth was very close to Sherlock's ear. "Don't you think we were born in the wrong time?" he asked, breath hot against the detective's neck, his hands sliding down the sides of Sherlock's body. Sherlock was still rigid under his touch, but he felt the slightest shiver.
"What do you mean?" A slight catch in his voice.
"I mean," Jim's hands tightened around Sherlock's slender hips, the sharp bones fitting into the hollows of his palms, "what a terribly dull time we live in. Democracy, bah. We the People, equal representation for all, a future fair for all, kumbaya, my lord. Ugh. You and I, Sherlock, we were born for different times. We would have been kings, emperors, despots. Making decisions for the mindless masses too stupid to do it for themselves. Our decrees as law. Heads on pikes if we are disobeyed. Can't you imagine it?" His voice was slow and thick as he drew his hands up the front of Sherlock's torso, feeling lean muscle working under his fingertips. "In Roman times, we would have made Caligula blush. Fuck Nero, it would have been you fiddling as Rome burned. And it would burn because we wanted it to. All that power. Doesn't it make you hard thinking about it?"
"No." The answer was flat and resistant.
"Oh, but your nipples are hard, that's a start!" Jim's thumb flicked over a hard nub of flesh beneath the thin fabric of Sherlock's shirt.
Sherlock ground his teeth.
Jim shrugged. "Not into the Romans? Pity. You look so sexy in a toga. How about cowboys? Yee hawww." His lips were almost brushing Sherlock's neck. His fingers nimbly worked open the first button of Sherlock's shirt, then moved to the next. "The wild West. Just as lawless. People made it up as they go along. I think I would have liked it back then." He opened the shirt completely and slid his warm hands up Sherlock's bared torso at the same he pressed his hips forward against Sherlock's ass, letting him feel his hard-on. "Baby, I look hot in a pair of chaps. Maybe I'll show you sometime."
Sherlock let out a shuddery breath and then groaned audibly in spite of himself when Jim bit his neck and dragged his fingernails hard up his torso.
"Don't worry," Jim murmured sweetly, licking the bite mark with the tip of his tongue. "No blood. Yet. The point I was making is," he pinched Sherlock's nipples harder, causing the other man to hiss softly, "I know you, Sherlock. We're the same animal, you and I. And so I know what you need. Far more than your housepet." He released his grasp and walked around to get a look at Sherlock from the front.
The detective's cheeks were flushed and there were eight angry pink marks streaking up his chest. Marked. Jim liked that. He brazenly reached up and brushed his hand over Sherlock's crotch, causing the other man to lurch back.
"You're hard as a rock. Thought so," he said, in an almost bored tone, reaching to pluck up one of Sherlock's wrists, unbuttoning his shirt cuff almost tenderly.
"My body responded to a stimulus. It hardly indicates rampant desire," said Sherlock archly. He wasn't resisting being undressed, as he knew there was no point, as Jim had the power at any moment to cause harm to John. And maybe, just maybe, thought he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was finding this whole development extremely interesting. It was a forced seduction, but a seduction, nonetheless.
Jim shook his head a little, reaching to unbutton the other cuff. "No, the way I see it, Sherlock, I made your dick hard by biting and pinching you and jerking off your brain with visions of despotic power. Not by touching your dick. That's called getting off, darling heart."
Sherlock shrugged carelessly. "What do I know? I'm just The Virgin, yes?"
Jim made a disapproving tsk-tsk sound, tugging Sherlock's shirt off in one quick motion and tossing it on the floor. "Don't play dumb, dearie. It's not becoming on a man of your calibre." He took a step back to admire Sherlock's form and let out a low whistle of appreciation. "And what calibre it is. What other secrets are you hiding beneath those ill-fitting suits? Not that you ever leave much to the imagination."
"Hardly ill-fitting," said Sherlock haughtily.
"Oh, are we bantering now? How fun." Jim stepped closer, invading Sherlock's space. "Your turn."
"For what?"
"Take something off me. Haven't you always wanted to peel off a layer and see what was underneath?" Jim spread his arms out and cocked his head with a smirk.
"We'll have to go a lot deeper than that," murmured Sherlock, but he complied and tugged Jim's jacket off his shoulders.
"Watch the Westwood …"
"My humble apologies," said Sherlock obsequiously, making a show of sliding the jacket off with exaggerated reverence and handing it to Jim, who took it with a small bow and laid it across a chair.
Jim straightened up again. "What's next? Choose anything. Shirt, sock, oh, the suspense is killing —"
His words were cut off when Sherlock said, "Tie!" and grabbed it sharply and jerking it hard, causing Jim's head snap to the side. It would have been a simple matter to choke the life out of the criminal using the silken garment, but Sherlock knew the rules of the game and stopped when the knot on the tie loosened.
Jim chuckled, a low, throaty sound, baring his teeth, eyes sparking with intrigue. "Well done, Sherlock. Well done. Still some life in you yet, sexy." He pried Sherlock's fingers off the tie and slipped it over his head, pausing and then easing it over Sherlock's head.
"I don't wear ties," the detective said petulantly.
"You do now," Jim intoned before wrapping the tie around his fingers and roughly jerking Sherlock forward so they were face to face and Jim captured the other man's lips in a slow, lecherous kiss that left Sherlock flustered, off-balance, and breathless.
"Continue," Jim instructed. Sherlock reached out and began to unbutton Jim's crisp, white shirt. His fingers tremoured ever so slightly and he cursed himself for it, just as Jim lapped it up.
Jim waited patiently and when Sherlock eased the shirt off his shoulders, he shrugged out of it and then laid it down across the chair on top of his jacket. He faced Sherlock squarely for a moment so the detective could get a look at him.
"Tell me, what have you deduced, detective?" he said slowly. He stood tall, shoulders back, confident in his body and not at all unnerved by Sherlock's steely gaze.
"You're vain, so you put work into maintaining your body."
Jim made a mock embarrassed face and held up one hand. "Guilty as charged!"
"But also you like the element of surprise. You rely on it to keep you safe. You have a slender build, but you are much stronger than you appear. You train this way on purpose."
"Good, good." Jim nodded approvingly.
"Likely in martial arts and other forms of hand-to-hand combat."
"Have you tried krav maga? So trendy these days, but so addictive!"
"You want me to be aware of this in case I have any further ideas of fighting you."
Jim shrugged, pouting briefly before slowly walking behind Sherlock again. "Don't you get tired of fighting, Sherlock? Everything is always such a struggle for you. I know, because I'm like you." He slipped his arms around the detective and dragged his hands over Sherlock's torso, pressing his own bare chest up against Sherlock's back, the sudden skin-to-skin contact causing them both to shiver. "Born into a world that has no place for us. I chose to make the world work for me, but you," he kissed Sherlock's shoulder tenderly, "you're always swimming against the current. 'Rage, rage, against the dying of the light …'"
"… 'Though wise men at their end know dark is right,'" Sherlock murmured, continuing the verse Jim had started, "'because their words had forked no lightning they do not go gentle into that good night.'"
Jim smiled against Sherlock's shoulder and moved up to kiss his neck. "Here you are, with this magnificent body and magnificent mind and you've been denying yourself the carnal pleasures all your life. And I think I know why."
"Do enlighten me," Sherlock remarked dryly.
Jim slid one hand down Sherlock's body, sliding over his lean, muscled chest and firm belly, then pausing to pop open the button on Sherlock's trousers and lower the zip. "Sex," Jim whispered hot into Sherlock's ear, "is like a kind of insanity."
Sherlock trembled in spite of himself as Jim's hand slid down into his pants.
Jim found Sherlock's cock — which was still mostly hard — and wrapped his fingers around it, causing the other man to bite back a moan.
"It fogs the brain, clouds judgment," Jim's voice was silky smooth as he fondled Sherlock, teasing him into full hardness. "Causing a person to make strange choices. To not care about consequences. Nothing else matters in the moment except fucking. Getting off. In spite of our big talk and fancy technology, we're still just animals, Sherlock. We rut and claw and scream just like the beasts."
"You …" Sherlock began, then had to pause to clear his throat and moisten his lips before trying again, attempting to resist being distracted by Jim expertly stroking his dick. "You want me to be as insane as you."
"Oh, heavens no!" Jim chuckled softly. "The world can barely handle one of me. And I'm rather protective of my place in this world. No, Sherlock, I just want to see what you're like when the animal takes over." He abruptly took his hand away and spun Sherlock around to face him before pushing him down on the bed. "So let's get to it, shall we …?"