Jim

"Can you stay the night, or do you have to leave?" Sebastian asked as he and John washed each other off in the shower.

"I should probably go...I would love, love to stay...but I've got work early tomorrow morning, and seeing as you've ripped off my only shirt and my pants are now soaked in my own drool—" John chuckled, his face flushing, "I should probably head back soon." He sighed as he rinsed himself.

"Fair enough. That was...that was fun, wasn't it?" He grinned. "You can't say you're not a sex kitten after all that."

John chuckled again, 'You will never ever hear me call myself a sex kitten—although I'm not saying I deny it." He grinned and leaned up to press a kiss to Sebastian's lips as he reached behind him and shut off the water.

Sebastian grinned into the kiss. "Love it when you're cheeky." He smiled down at John as he reached behind him and squeezed his bum, watching John wince. "Have fun avoiding sitting down for the next few days."

John gave him a sort of annoyed, but playful bat on the arm. "Luckily for me surgery doesn't often involve much sitting, so I'm sure I'll be fine." He just hoped he wouldn't have to endure too many amused, knowing looks from Sherlock. The thought made his cheeks redden. "You'll be staying here, then?" he asked as he climbed out, grabbing them each a towel.

"Might as well. I paid for the room, and it's not like we soiled the bed sheets," Sebastian said, toweling off his hair. "I did my assignment—Jim can't complain that I'm not in." He stepped back out in the room. "Did you want to borrow my t-shirt? I've got a spare, and seeing as how I ruined your shirt..."

John gave another little laugh. "Um, yeah, actually. That'd be great," he said as he wrapped his towel around his waist and headed out to pick up what clothes hadn't been ruined. He smirked and tossed his pants at Sebastian as he walked out, "We'll make a trade. Consider it a souvenir."

"I'll treasure them forever," Sebastian laughed, unwadding them to look them over, then pulled John close by his towel ends and yanked the shirt over his head. "If I'm going to forcefully undress you, I may as well do the opposite." Once John head emerged from the neck hole, he leaned in and kissed him. "I wish you could stay."

John smiled against the kiss, 'Mm. Next time—and I'll be sure to bring an extra change of clothes just in case you get set upon ruining another one of my shirts.' John kissed him again quickly before he grabbed his jeans and started tugging them on. 'Looks like I'll be going home au naturale.'

"Sexy," Sebastian grinned, giving John a final kiss after he'd found and donned his shoes. "Call me soon, promise?"

'When I get home, you mean?' he laughed, "What? Are you afraid I'm going to get scooped up and seduced by a mysterious stranger?"

"Well, you've proved yourself to be very seducible," Sebastian said. "Can you blame me for worrying?"

John wiggled his eyebrows. "I supposed not. After all, I am a 'sex kitten,' aren't I?" He tugged his jumper on over the t-shirt and slid his feet back into his shoes. He sighed and stood up as he zipped his coat. "Right. Well, I'm off—I'll call you soon."

"Right," Sebastian kissed him a final time. "Thanks for the good romp." He smiled as he watched John leave. He loved him. He did. He was in love with John Watson. How had that happened? He couldn't wipe the goofy grin off his face as he finished drying himself off and crawled into bed, his heart feeling too big for his chest.

Over the next few months, John and Sebastian saw each other as often as they got the chance, never meeting in the same spot twice, always booking different hotel rooms. Sebastian couldn't get enough. It wasn't just the sex—it was how John refused to be intimidated by him, how he was always knocking him down a peg with a sarcastic remark. John made him want to be a better man. John was equally taken with Sebastian. The man's cockiness concealed a very caring heart, and he was fascinating to talk to. He was always sad when their dates came to an end.

He had just left Sebastian's hotel room one evening after a lot of pleading from Sebastian to stay, but he had work early the next morning.

"I have to go, I'm sorry, I'll call!" he laughed, dragging himself away, eyes locked on Sebastian until he rounded the corner of the hallway, grinning to himself.

He stepped into the breezy, cool night, smiling up at the stars and whistling on his way to the tube station. At a stop light, a car pulled up next to him and the door opened. Mycroft, surely. Instead of an attractive woman, Mycroft's usual messenger, however, it was an intimidating and rough-looking man who stepped out of the car. He pulled John close and pressed a gun against his stomach. "In the car now, no fuss," he said quietly.

John's heart stopped and he put his hands up. "Whoa...whoa...fine, okay..." He eyed the sleek black car. Whoever was inside wasn't looking for a hold up. The man slid back into the car and crawled into the driver's seat, leaving John the seat next to Jim Moriarty, who was sitting in an immaculate tailored suit, legs crossed, surveying John darkly.

John's blissful elation was wiped away completely, replaced but utter terror. He fought to keep his voice steady—what did this mean? Did he know? "...Moriarty...what do you want?"

"Buckle up, John. Car safety's ever so important," Jim drawled sarcastically. The car set in motion, a very smooth ride, and Jim gave a long sniff as John slowly put on his belt buckle, no alternative available. He watched Jim carefully, his jaw set.

"Mmm, someone's been fucked. Showered afterwards, at least." He smiled thin-lipped at John, his dark eyes hungry. "How is Sebastian in the sack, Johnny-Boy? Does he just destroy you with military talk? I know he's got a fetish, and who better to play out that kink with than a little ol' army doctor?"

Oh fuck. Oh God, oh fuck oh fuck! He had to steel his ground. "...I don't know what you're talking about. What do you want?"

"Johhhnn..." Moriarty dragged the name out on his tongue, as if tasting it. There was a malicious, sarcastic note to the way he said it. "Out of all the people for Sebastian to choose. A one-time fuck, sure, I can see the thrill. But our Sebastian, making the good army doctor a boyyfriend? That is simply too much. John, John John—" he trained his black eyes at him. "What am I going to do with you?"

John swallowed, trying to swallow down his rage. '"How about you let me out of your damn car and leave both of us alone. It's none of your business anyway," he said icily.

Moriarty cracked his neck from one side to the other. "None of my business?" He laughed icily as the car pulled to a stop. He waited until the driver got out and opened the door, once more training a gun at John. "Get out and follow him inside."

John glared at him, but didn't fancy being shot, so he stepped out. He wondered if he could get his hand into his pocket and text Sherlock. Or maybe he could just call him and put it on speaker phone so the other could listen in and deduce where he was. He didn't particularly want Sherlock finding out about Sebastian, but he didn't want to die either, so casually as he could, he slipped his hands in his jacket pocket.

Jim strode inside his house languidly after John. A chair and already been set out for him. "Normally I'd never take you into one of my own flats, but seeing as how you've been here already—Sit," he commanded in a voice that would send shivers down anyone's spine.

"I'd rather stand, thanks,' John said as he pushed the on button on his phone in his pocket. Sherlock was on speed dial, so hopefully this wouldn't be too difficult.

Jim delivered a swift punch to John's gut, sending him toppling into the chair. He flicked his eyes to the driver, who yanked John's hands behind his back and cuffed him. Jim grabbed John's phone from him. "Ohh, Johnny!" He grinned and laughed, backhanding John hard across the face, making John gasp at the pain. "Adorable. You thought you could get away with something like this?" He turned off John's phone and pocketed it.

"I want you to consider what I'm about to say, Dr. Watson. Now, you can listen quietly, or I can cut out that tongue of yours now, and then you can listen." He trained the knife point under John's chin. "Which'll it be?"

John clamped his mouth shut and looked up at the man darkly.

"Incidentally, how are you liking the handcuffs? Bleeding yet? I sharpened them just for you..." He leaned in toward John as one hand slid down John's arm and touched his wrist. His fingers came back spotted with blood. He licked it off slowly. "Yum. Here are your options, John. I could make good money off you. I could sell you." He pulled back and looked John up and down.

"In good physical condition, knows how to follow orders, already has a history of being a slut. By tomorrow you could be chained to a bed in Bangkok for the remaining prime years of your life, being drugged and fucked and diseased into oblivion. Sure, you'd have an attitude at first, but between the heroin you'd quickly become a junkie for the and the regular beatings, you'd be an incoherent fuck toy before the month was out. Then..." he leaned closer to John, letting his breath bounce off John's skin. "When your teeth have fallen out and you're so ill that even the worst perverts don't want your worn out old arsehole anymore, you'll be thrown out of the brothel and into the street to beg. That could be your new life, John. I could have you on a plane to Thailand in a couple hours. I even have a plane ticket for you, and a slave trader who's very interested."

John's chest constricted at this horrible fate. He stared at Jim in disbelief. Maybe it was just a bluff...or maybe it wasn't. His stomach dropped and he fought to keep his expression neutral as the cuffs bit in to his wrists. Oh God...oh God, oh God... he thought wildly of Sebastian and Sherlock—neither of them able to find him as he was drugged and fucked to death. Attempting keep his voice steady and bored, "And what's my other option?"

Jim grinned. "You'll work for me. You'll be at my beck and call, run whatever errands I need, provide me with any other…services I'm needing." His eyes roamed over John.

John swallowed hard and looked away. He balled his hands into fists. He could feel blood sliding down his wrists and dripping from his knuckles to the floor. He said, voice strained, "I really don't have a choice, do I?"

"Of course you do, Johnny Boy. Sexual slavery in eastern Asia, or doing some odd jobs for me. Granted, it's a fairly obvious choice..." Jim smiled down at him. "What do you say? Hm?"

John clenched his jaw. "You know my choice, Jim. I'm not going to Asia." Unless you order me to...he thought to himself, realizing that if Jim ordered him to, he'd have to. John didn't know what to say or do. "Are you wanting Sebastian to know about this?" he asked flatly.

"You are not to tell Sebastian, unless you want him dead. Consider it the same with Sherlock. Understood?"

John was biting down so hard, he felt like his teeth were about to crumble. "Yes," he growled.

"Good," Jim smiled amiably, then leaned in towards John, his chest rubbing against him as he wrapped his arms around John and began unlocking his handcuffs. "Then let's give this a practice, shall we?"

John didn't say anything as Jim tugged at the cuffs, trying not to wince as the metal sliced even more into his skin before they finally dropped to the floor.

"Ooh. What a mess you've made, Johnny." Jim held out his bloody hands for John to see, then a wicked gleam came into his eyes. "Lick them clean."

John girt his teeth and glared up at him, appalled and disgusted by the demeaning nature of the task, and didn't move.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Not off to a good start, pet." With his less bloody fingers, he carefully pulled a plane ticket out of his breast pocket. "O'Seanassy!" he called. "Bring the car around. You'll need to escort Doctor Watson to Heathrow." His eyes glinted daringly.