Author's note: Yet another smut warning.
James Moriarty sat in his office in the compound, a clean white room with a black desk in the middle and a roaring fireplace off to the side. He was staring up at a TV on the wall mounted opposite to him, his legs kicked up on the desk casually.
"Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes," the news station blared, zooming in on a lanky curly-haired man looking uncomfortable off to the side. He couldn't help but smirk as he watched the news report. Yes, finally a break from this tedium.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number. "I'll take the name Richard Brook," he spoke into it.
"Yes, sir. I'll begin forging immediately," the woman's voice on the other line replied. He hung up and returned to the news.
Not too long after the report ended, a scruffy man came into the room. "Some good news and bad news, sir," he began.
Jim turned off the news and turned to him, moving his head from one side to the other as if trying to crack his neck. "Well?"
"Bad news is that the Pentonville Prison employee almost gave us up. We've taken care of him, but now we'll have to find another up to the task…"
Jim's eyes darkened over the chocolate brown they usually were. It was a dangerous look and the man knew nothing good could come of it.
He was right as his boss took up a glass paperweight from his desk and threw it against the wall, allowing the glass to shatter throughout the room. He grabbed another object, the phone, and let if follow a similar fate. One by one, the employee watched as Jim began throwing things against the wall or into the fireplace, not even bothering to flinch slightly at any of the motions. They were all used to his temper.
Finally, Jim closed the distance between them and ended with his handed clutching the neck of his employee, the reptilian eyes looking into his own unperturbed ones.
"And what is the good news?" he asked savagely. The man was significantly larger than Jim, in height and muscle, and could easily have killed him in a number of ways. But Jim was his brilliant employer; the man with the plan, and no one dare defy him.
"Mycroft's girl is finished. She sent out the final report not too long ago."
He let go of the man and pondered his words. She was finally done collecting information. He now had all he needed to put his plan into action. Other than an employee at Pentonville Prison, of course.
"What do you intend on doing with her now?" the other man asked slowly, clearly seeing the gears that were turning in his boss's mind.
"I need to see her," he responded absentmindedly as he walked out of the room.
What awoke her was a stiffness that began settling into her limbs. She tried to moved into a comfortable position where she could easily fall back asleep but found that she couldn't. As soon as she realized something was wrong and she needed to kick into reflexive mode, but it was too late.
She opened her eyes with another body hovering above hers, carefully working a tight knot into a silk strip of cloth that connected her wrist to the bedpost. It was too late for the rest of her limbs, as they had already been tied down. She was now naked and spread eagle on the bed, no blanket to comfort her as she felt fully exposed.
She tried her hardest to shake herself awake and come to mental senses when the figure seated itself in a chair next to the bed. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" she finally asked, having abandoned all fatigue.
"I felt I should congratulate you," the figure answered in the familiar high-pitched tone of Jim Moriarty that gave her the chills.
"Is that so…" she responded, feeling an unfamiliar chill in the air. Jim had been seated with his back to the only light source the room – a dim crescent moon – so she couldn't see what facial expression he bore, but judging from her current position, it was not a good omen for her.
"And now it's time to let you go…" His words bore heaviness to them, as if he himself was unsure what he meant by it. A few moments of silence passed until he finally revealed his hand. "How would you like a permanent position within my staff?"
She smirked at his silhouette. "I think I've had quite enough of your staff for one lifetime," she retorted. After a few more uncomfortable moments of silence in which she could have sworn she felt the room grow cooler, she continued, "Besides, you promised me freedom from your little war with Mycroft."
"I did. But I was hoping you'd reconsider given the…circumstances," he responded, his voice still emotionless in the still night.
"I didn't," she replied, almost too quickly.
He heard a soft click of his tongue. "I would recommend you reconsider."
She couldn't help but chuckle at his recommendation. "Or else what? You'll kill me? Oh Jim, there's only so many times you can threaten to kill a girl before she stops believing you," she jested.
The chill in the air only grew icier as the silence remained. She had no idea what reaction she elicited, but the lack of response told her enough.
The weight shifted on the bed and she knew he had crawled onto the foot of it. A second later, a pair of arms weaved around her thighs, pulling them apart and pressing into them. And then came a soft breath that slowly moved its way from her inners knees to the outside of pubic mound. She felt his breath falter just outside of her most sensitive area, before hands moved up and pulled her lower lips apart.
The first thing she felt after that was the tip of his tongue brush very lightly against the skin underneath, eliciting a moan and her hips to thrust up half an inch – as much as they possibly could before the fabric bounding her ankles pulled her back onto the silken tangle underneath her.
She felt a smirk press up against her before he once again stuck his tongue and ran it along the very tip of her clit, bringing out another moan and attempt to move. Oh yes, he had done a very good job with the bindings indeed. He used his fingers to part her and hold her down at the same time as he continued to stroke his tongue in a delicate motion upwards. With each passing stroke, his tongue dove in deeper and deeper, letting the body of it run over the bundle of nerves that were so taut he practically felt her heart beat through them. He eventually sucked the tiny bud into his mouth and let his tongue flick over and over it, evoking the strongest response from her yet.
Her body clenched up tightly and she held her restraints tightly in her hands as she let out a moan so loud he was sure at least one other person in the compound had heard. Despite the fabric digging into her wrists and ankles, she couldn't help but pull against them, aching to feel her hands across the back of his head or wrap her thighs around him as he continued to extract waves upon waves of pleasure from her body.
"Oh god, Jim!" she exclaimed as the tiny circles his tongue was making built up a final intensity in her that she just couldn't fight. After a brief clenching of muscles, she felt herself let go in waves, clenching and unclenching herself over and over as she felt pure ecstasy wash over her. Her mind went blank, the rest of body felt weightless, and she felt like nothing else mattered in the world than Jim's tongue and her bliss.
Just as her euphoria started to settle down, she felt herself start pulling away from Jim's mouth but the restraints soon stopped her. "Jim…stop," she managed to breathe out in between satisfied huffs.
He began to suck to harder on her now, making slight sucking noises in the air to break the heavy silence. She was at the point of oversensitivity at this point and her clit began to throb under the weight of his tongue. "Fucking stop, Jim!" she managed to growl out, every muscle in her lower body attempting to reject him at that point.
He looked up at her from his position and she saw the moonlight reflect the blackness in his eyes. It was an unrecognizable look that appeared deranged, twisted, unsatisfied in every way, and it scared her beyond hope. There was no pleasure in this now; it was merely Jim Moriarty using his punching bag as he saw fit.
She found that she had pulled against her harnesses so much that each limb already began to show a blue hue against her skin. Jim's grip pulled her hips so tightly onto the mattress that even that area began to ache. Not even the muscles in her body could save her now from what was the most intense pain she had ever felt.
Her body glistened with sweat and droplets of tears had run down her face as she finally whimpered, "Jim…stop…please." She felt consciousness become elusive as her mind as the blood went rushing to her genitals instead of her brain and she felt like she was about to pass out at any given moment.
He slowly stopped his actions and let her out of his mouth, looking up at her see her defeated form helpless in front of him. She was violently shaking from head to foot, her eyes barely able to stay open. He sat up and watched as she fought off the desire to fall into unconsciousness. It almost made him feel bad for his sudden loss of control. Almost. After all, there were worse ways to go.
She wanted to punch him, kick him as hard as she could in the balls, to beat him until he was begging for his life. Throughout the entirety of her situation, it's all she could think about, but her bounds kept her from so much as avoiding his touch. And now she found herself shrunken into practically nothing in front of him, the complete loss of dignity almost humiliating. Whatever had caused this occurrence was far beyond her control, but no less excusable.
Despite her lack of awareness of the outside world, she did feel a slight change and forced her eyes open to once again find Jim over her, his black Swiss Army in hand and cutting her bonds free one by one. Once the last had been loosed, she found herself unable to move. Any movement of her over-stimulated body was bound to pain her once more so lay there, absolutely still, hoping Jim would leave the room at any moment.
He waited for several minutes to the side of the bed, looking out into the night sky and thinking over situation as she regained her composure. The steadying of her breath and slow bodily movements told him she had almost recovered so he turned around and took her into his arms, burying one of his hands into her hair to feel the cool moisture. He wasn't sure if it was cold sweat or drying tears but either way he couldn't help but feel a slight bit of satisfaction hit him.
Every touch of his sickened her. When he had pulled her face up, she couldn't help but be thankful for her gathered strength. She clenched her unbroken hand and threw it against Jim's jaw, making sure she put a forceful amount of strength behind her swing. It was met with a crack, but she didn't care to see its outcome as she continued with a backhand from the same hand.
When he slowly faced her once more, she found that she had successfully split open the side of his lip and caused a significant redness along his cheekbone, knowing it would be an alarming shade of blue by tomorrow. His face was unmoved from the emotionless state it was in before her assault started, unfazed her by her sudden violence. Opposite to her expectation of him lashing out, he grabbed her from the root of her hair and pulled her lips into his own.
The coppery taste of his blood wasn't enough to distract her from this spontaneous action. It was certainly not what she expected. She had to remind herself once more that Jim was a wild card in her book and never would be what she expected.
Despite what she had just been through, the thrill of his spontaneity made her grab the front of his shirt and pull her closer for a deeper kiss, allowing her mouth to part so their tongues could hungrily explore each other's. Their actions had a certain finality to them that was irresistible. Her task had been completed and it was either time for him to leave her be, or kill her, and they both knew that a decision had to be made. But for now, they reveled in each other's presence, taking the most out of it that they could.
Jim wasted no time in helping her to remove the garments from his body as quickly as he could. Returning his hands into her still-dampened hair and lips to hers, he lowered her slowly onto the bed, his fingertips sliding along her side, making sure to feel every pore with sincere intrigue, while his lips slowed their actions. He steadily moved along her jaw to her neck, gently sucking some of the delicate patches of skin on there.
A puzzled look crossed her face as she said in between shallow breaths, "Don't tell me you're into making love now."
He chuckled into the crook of her neck as he made his way back up. "If you want, I can go get my glock and really spice things up," he joked, nipping at the corner of lips.
"How considerate of you…" she joked, locking his lips in a deep embrace once more.
"Perhaps next time, then," he whispered after pulling away from her once more and looking directly into her eyes. She felt a chill up her spine in the way that he said it, feeling the uncertainty of her future hang above both their heads.
He diffused the tension by pressing his rigid staff against her opening, testing to see if her oversensitivity had passed. He found her wet and willing, feeling reassured by her sharp intake of breath. He took his time pushing into her, wanting to savor the movement of her walls around him and how they reacted to his blissful intrusion. After burying himself completely into her, he paused to savor the moment before pulling almost completely out and repeating the process.
She felt frustrated beneath him, wondering why he drew this out when he could just as easily slam into her repeatedly, earning both of their pleasure peaks to arrive significantly faster. His leisurely movements were infuriatingly not enough. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, he locked her into a kiss so passionate that it had answered everything.
She felt the touch of loneliness within him, the monotony of the world around him never having been enough. He was in no way the misunderstood villain, but rather he had traits that humanized him, such as dealing out and craving affection that wasn't entirely sexual in its nature. He relished in the intimate contact because it was a warm reciprocation he was not used to.
She slid her fingers into his short soft hair, pulling him closer to her. He welcomed the action and sped up his thrusts slightly, feeling the need for her build up inside him. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him into her deeper, causing him to pull away from his lips and back into the crook of her shoulder, allowing them both to release the sighs of passion that were pent up inside them.
"J-Jim!" she gasped out, as he reoriented himself to rub directly against her clit with each passing thrust. She didn't think it was possible after the treatment he had given her earlier, but she felt the sensation of satisfaction nearing within her as he continued to move soft, steady pace at just the right angle.
He felt so familiar with her at this point that he knew her release was approaching by the constricting of her walls. He didn't know how close he himself was until he felt her tighten, and willed himself to keep it together until she was satiated. He slowed his movements down, taking her face into one of his hands and saying, "Tell me what you want, Emma…"
Her ragged breaths were not helping to keep her mind from fogging up and going back to his tantalizing thrusts. It was merely the fact that he had used her name to bring her focus back to him, for he had not said it since their first meeting. "I want you, Jim," she replied, locking eyes with him.
She could have sworn she saw the corner of his lip twitch in a smirk that said, 'my pleasure,' but she couldn't dwell on whether it had actually happened or not as he sped up his movements and deep thrusts.
Her mind went numb as he finished her off. She was about to release a loud moan when he once again bore his lips upon hers, finding that he too had his finalized moans to release within her. They both relished in one of those rare moments when both partners finished together, their passionate sighs matching up to break the night's silence.
He collapsed on her chest to wait his out his euphoric feeling, rising and falling with her chest as she did the same. His fingers almost absentmindedly began to stroke her side until they came upon a scab. He lifted his head up to see that it was a familiar JM that was on its way to healing.
"That's going to leave a scar…" he commented in a distant voice.
She smiled from her place against the pillow with her hand still in his hair, her thumb softly stroking him. "A friend once told me that scars are tattoos with better stories."
She felt him smile against her skin as he gave the area one last stroke. "That'd make a hell of a story. Sleep well, Emma Marin."
She tried her hardest to forget about whatever fate awaited her tomorrow and forced her eyes shut. She found that after that perfect coital session, it was almost too easy to drift off into sleep with Moriarty still resting across her body.