you could have my heart (and i would break it for you)
-or-
be gay do crime
By: Aviantei
[Shibuya Operation – Story Storm]
His First Bow:
"tuck a knife with my heart (up my sleeve)"
1874
"Ah, so this is her."
The two men had been conversing for a while before the comment was spoken, their wine glasses having been refilled several times before reaching its true topic: the exchange of a particular service. Though, depending on who you asked, it was also the exchange of a set of "goods," but that was if you could consider a person a piece of property.
Charleville had no such issues with that particular brand of semantics.
He also had no problem with the "goods" that had been brought into the room, but that was because he cared not for appearances. No, above all else he prized obedience, and right after that was the guarantee that nothing of what he did would be spoken to anyone. Both of those things were to be found there, if his sources were to be trusted.
Beauclerk was to be trusted, so long as you had earned his favour. Charleville had done a lot of work to earn said favour, and so far it seemed to be paying off. Stratford had brought the "goods" in, which was a positive sign for the negotiations as a whole. "I hope you understand," Stratford was saying, "that what you're asking for won't come cheap."
"Oh, I understand very well," Charleville said, standing up. Whenever he tilted up the offering's chin, he received a blank stare in response, which was a good sign as far as he was concerned. He'd never been one for doing the taming, but instead one to reap the benefits of well-trained pets. "If you don't mind, I'll take advantage of that test run you offered before I make my final decision."
Better for some, worse for others, that final decision was a one of resounding approval.
January, 1875
"Jameson, are you familiar with the Earl Charleville?"
Terror had taken hold of Jameson from the inside out, freezing him worse than if someone had dumped ice water down his back. His mind went numb, as did the rest of him, and he wouldn't have even had the sense of mind to be aware of when and where he was if it weren't for the fact that William's suit sleeve was a rough texture underneath his hand, one with a beating pulse coursing through it, reminding Jameson that he, too, was alive.
"Why…" His lips trembled as he went to speak, but Jameson forced the words out, nonetheless, though it felt like the very air itself was about to swallow them up. "Why are you bringing him up?" Why did that name have to crop up again now, of all times, whenever Jameson was pushing forward and trying to make something of his life?
"Ah, I feared as much," Albert said, and he did seem disappointed that he even had to bring such a thing up in the first place. Jameson almost wanted to ask him to stop, but it wouldn't have done any good, now would it? "I don't know all the details, but it seems he's familiar enough with you to have recognized you when we went out the other day, if this telegram is to be believed." Jameson squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would do anything to erase the reality that was catching up to him. Familiar was the most cordial way of putting their association, and it was all the more awful for it. "He seems to be hoping to have an audience with you."
"Jameson," William said, his voice soothing and gentle—but nowhere near enough to bring a calm to the already raging storm that shredded every last bit of Jameson's calm and scattered the pieces to the wind. "Can you think of why Lord Charleville would want to see you?"
It was such a simple question with an even simpler answer that Jameson almost barked out a laugh. Though the sound wouldn't have had an ounce of amusement to it, Jameson couldn't bring himself to do that much. "Considering the circumstances of our first meeting," he said, not surprised by the even, uninflected tone of his voice, "I think you can guess just why he'd want my company."
It didn't matter that their status as brothers was due to adoption; William and Albert both pursed their lips the exact same way, one after the other.
"I wouldn't think," Albert said, his voice much more measured than Jameson had expected it to be, the kind that took great effort to make it appear as if it were effortless, "that someone who had been blackmailed would want anything to do with one of the involved parties."
"That would be because he wasn't someone we blackmailed." The admission was quiet, but it still felt as if he'd fired a gun inside a quiet room. Might as well empty the chamber then, save the two from having any other assumptions. "He was…a regular," Jameson said, feeling guilty that he'd considered turning William into one of them for his own selfish needs. That feeling wasn't enough to make him let go of the other man's arm, though. "Someone that was willing to pay to have his way with a tame target."
Jameson paused, hoping that a question would save him from having to continue. However, as if they sensed that, Albert and William were both silent, and their expressions were unreadable, save for the obvious light in their eyes that indicated minds racing through options. His momentum was halting, but Jameson followed it through and continued:
"Nothing was off limits, so long as it wouldn't cause permanent damage. Though if you wanted anything rougher, you'd have to pay a higher premium. But other than that, you wouldn't be stopped." Oh, Jameson was shaking, when had that started? Even in the light of the library, the memories still stuck to his skin, burning into his wrists and ankles, into his back. He didn't want to admit it, but keeping it inside all the worse. "He'd tie me up, gag me, and…"
"You do not have to speak of it if you don't want to," William said, and Jameson nodded, his voice having dissipated. To call being at the mercy the Earl Charleville an act of torture would be much more accurate than referring to it as intercourse, though penetration had been involved. It was just the final dish after a lengthy and painful appetizer.
Just because there hadn't been blood didn't mean there hadn't been pain.
"You also don't have to go anywhere near him again," Albert said. It was the first time Jameson had heard him be so stern, and he shuffled a bit behind William without a conscious thought. "I'll send a missive back, tell him that he was mistaken. We'll have to be more careful going out, but we can settle something so that—"
"W-wait." Two sets of eyes—one scarlet, one forest green—moved to him, and Jameson wanted to hide away even more. "Wouldn't that just mean I have to hide away more? I…don't want to do that." To have freedom for not even a few weeks before it was snatched away was unbearable. "I don't want to have him touch me ever again. But I don't want to hide away from him forever."
"That would be rather unfair to you," William said, not letting it show in his voice that Jameson was gripping onto him hard enough that his fingers must have been going numb. "It's not your fault that someone else hurt you. You shouldn't have to hide away because of that." Albert nodded in agreement, though his brow was still furrowed. "So then we just need to create a scenario where you will be safe regardless. Though I'll admit that keeping you out of the public light might be best until we find a solution…"
Jameson grimaced, but he understood that. For a while, they could pretend that Charleville had been mistaken, but, if Jameson was about to go through his life as he wanted, that wouldn't be a permanent solution by any means. "In that case, we could not hide Jameson," Albert said. "I have no qualms with making it very clear I won't allow something like that to happen to a member of my family. From what little I know of him, I doubt he'd be willing to start something with another Earldom."
Knowing what he did, Jameson couldn't say that with such certainty. He didn't know the exact figure, but the Lord Charleville had paid a hefty sum to indulge in Jameson as much as he did. That the Moriartys were of similar status might be a deterrent, but there was one thing that Jameson knew about someone like that for sure:
That if they didn't have access to one anymore, then all they needed to do was change targets to another. And if something like that was going to happen, then Jameson…
"I'll meet him." For once, it seemed that Albert and William alike were struck speechless, which was a good thing. Jameson couldn't imagine himself succeeding if they provided counterarguments; it was hard enough pressing forward with the both of them looking at him like that. "I know," he said, more to William than his brother, "that I don't have to do it. And I don't intend to let him do anything to me. But if he can't have me, then …"
"…Then what's to stop him from abusing someone else," Albert said, finishing the thought. Good, the less Jameson had to explain, the better. "Don't look at me like that, Will. You know that Jameson makes a fair point."
Whatever change in expression that Albert was referring to on William's face, Jameson couldn't read it, or perhaps William had covered it up by the time he could look. "I'm not disagreeing with the logic of that statement, nor am I disagreeing with protecting others. I just think that such a thing could give the Earl a false impression that he might succeed in his advances. And considering why he knows Jameson, he could just as well resort to blackmail to get what he wants." He hadn't thought that far, and Jameson flinched at the prospect, and William offered him a reassuring look. "Just like Albert said, I don't intend for such a thing to happen to you, Jameson. I will promise that much."
Hearing such words from both brothers sent a warm wave of relief through Jameson that he hadn't expected. Oh, it was but a ripple in the raging sea inside him, but it was nice to know that he could still feel something pleasant amongst such circumstances. No, he wasn't gone yet. "I appreciate it, both of you," Jameson said. "But it doesn't change the fact that refusing to see him for a short time will be but a temporary measure. And if we delay too long, then he could go after someone else." Hell, there was no guarantee that he didn't already have someone else to tie up; Jameson wouldn't be surprised.
While finding someone else in his exact circumstances would be less probable, he knew he wasn't special. There were plenty of other people out there who were similar to him in appearance, build, and vulnerability.
"Be that as it may," William said with the crispness of pure logic, "none of that is any reason to let him be alone with you."
"And why not?"
The question was so unexpected that it even made Jameson fall silent, and he had been the one to speak it. The faint traces of surprise seemed so foreign on William's face that even their slight inclusion changed his demeanour to a dramatic degree. For a moment, the sole sound in the library was the faintness of the wind outside rushing past the manor's windows. Albert directed a quick glance to William before the elder of the two cleared his throat.
"Jameson," he said with a gentle familiarity, "while your desire to protect others is admirable, being alone with him could lead to you getting hurt. I'm sure that you understand that even better than we do."
"I do." Oh, he understood, but that didn't seem to be the biggest factor at play whatsoever. "I know that. But don't you think if he was alone with me, he'd let down his guard?" One glance at the Moriarty brothers' faces made it clear that they didn't understand, and Jameson made himself say it, though his voice trembled with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. "Don't you think I could kill him then?"
He'd been thinking about it, somewhere in the back of his mind, ever since William had declared himself as a crime consultant, as the one responsible for Stratford's death. The freedom from his abuse had allowed an inferno of rage to blossom inside Jameson, all the anger for what he'd lost rushing out. He'd been hurt, torn apart, and while it would be but a fraction of the pain he'd endured, his own vengeance was obtainable.
Stratford may have already been killed, but he was not the sole target of Jameson's retribution.
"Are you certain?" William asked, making Jameson blink back to reality. It seemed like such a foolish question; Jameson had already been imagining it, already been thinking about how good it would feel to return the violence in fold, all with the bonus of erasing from the world a monster who preyed upon others without caring for the damage he would cause. "This is different than setting fire to the manor. That was destruction of property; going forward with such a thing would be the destruction of another person." Those scarlet eyes looked right into Jameson's, as if daring him to proceed without due consideration. "I am not saying that your desire is unfounded in any way. In fact, it is beyond understandable. But taking someone else's life, no matter the reason, is considered a crime. You need to have the resolve to endure that before I'll help you proceed."
"Of course I'm certain!" Feeling emboldened, Jameson stomped his foot against the boards as he took a step back with enough force to send his chair clattering back. "I won't let him hurt anyone else the way he hurt me, so—so—" For once, the desire in him was clear, a pristine feeling that Jameson couldn't confuse for anything else. "You said you'd help me do what I want, William, and I want to kill him!"
"Very well."
The agreement came with so little resistance that Jameson didn't know what to do with all the tension built up inside him. But William was there, the resolve clear in his eyes, and Albert's smile was encouraging behind his brother. Neither of them had been lying about helping him, and the feeling of such acceptance was almost enough to make Jameson tear up all over again.
"If that's what you wish to do," William said, hand held to his chest as if he were making a proclamation for all to hear, and Albert nodded his assent, "then we, James Moriarty, Crime Consultant will bring it to fruition.
"You have our word."
"He wishes to do what?"
It was past dinner and well into the evening, and the three Moriarty brothers had assembled downstairs in their strategy room. William wouldn't have had any issues with Jameson joining them, but, owing to the exertion of the day, he'd opted to retire to bed early. Of course, William was willing to bet that was in part due to wishing to be alone for some time, but that wasn't the most important issue to contend with.
Louis had been the one to ask the question, and the disbelief in his voice was understandable, seeing as he hadn't been present whenever Jameson had made his declaration. Louis's brow furrowed, a sign that he was torn between his general distrust of Jameson and the desire to help eliminate a noble who couldn't be punished within the means of the law.
"It's not that different than a number of other cases we've involved ourselves in," Albert said, maintaining his usual calm. That was a boon; having that metered composure would help keep Louis in a state that leant itself well to productivity. "Jameson may not have shared a lengthy list of details, but it's clear that he suffered an extensive amount of abuse at the hands of the Earl Charleville. Even if Jameson didn't wish to kill the man himself, I would propose we do so for the sake of anyone else who may cross his path. Besides, leaving someone with close interest in a member of our family wouldn't bode well for the future of our plans."
It was a solid argument; given their goals, there was no reason to refuse such a request. If Louis had an objection to the mention of Jameson as a member of the family, he didn't bother to voice it. Instead, he said, "I understand all that well enough. What I have a problem with is the fact that Jameson's insistence on completing the deed himself." That specification did limit their potential plans somewhat, but it wasn't as if William hadn't accounted for such things before. "I know you can prepare a perfect crime, William, but if we do complete this on the night of having a meeting of some sort with the Earl, then that will make it easier to track to us. If we're on a limited timeline to set this up, it'll be much riskier."
"Which are all fair points," William said, not wishing to brush aside Louis's concerns. "You're right in that this isn't an ideal situation whatsoever. However, if we all put our best effort into the plan, I have every confidence that we'll be successful." He offered his younger brother an encouraging smile. "I think I have an outline of a strategy in mind, so I'll be counting on you, Louis."
That request alone seemed to help ease some of the storminess of Louis's mood. "Of course, Brother."
"And I'll be relying on your help as well, Albert, beyond just contacting our new guest." Albert nodded at the acknowledgement, confirming the support that William had known he would receive. "If we can complete this request, we should further free Jameson from the darkness that plagues him. Without that hovering over him, he'll be an even more helpful asset in the future." There was nothing but benefit for their family to involve themselves in the matter. "Brother, I believe I'll be able to set up everything within that much time, so we can go ahead and arrange a dinner for next week. I'll leave the choice of what restaurant we go to up to you." No point in allowing someone like the Earl to step foot into their home.
"I'll be sure to send out the post first thing in the morning," Albert said. Leaving him in charge of such things was his preference, though there would be even more details he could be responsible for once William hashed events out for every possibility. "If you don't mind, I'll also take it upon myself to ensure that Jameson has enough attire he's comfortable with for this scenario."
William nodded, adding that to his mental checklist for later consideration. "That would be much appreciated. Louis, I'll also ask you to prepare some additional equipment. I'll be sure to complete that list by tomorrow evening." Louis nodded his understanding, which meant that they'd covered as much as they could do at the current juncture. "Then allow me to excuse myself to arrange the details. No matter what, we mustn't let such crimes go unpunished."
That sort of behaviour was not acceptable in the world that James Moriarty wished to create.
At the rate things were going, Jameson was certain that he was going to have far more suits made for him within the days of January than he'd ever expected to receive in his entire life. That was not a bad thing by any means, but it did make the contrast all the more pronounced between the present and the life he'd been living at the start of the month.
And soon he'd be facing a piece of that prior life once more in all its awful glory.
Not wanting to think about such things yet—though he knew it was inevitable, what with who he'd be facing within the next two hours' time—Jameson focused on his appearance. The restaurant Albert had chosen for the rendezvous was high-class, and it had a dress code to match. As such, he was in a fresh formal suit with enough distinct design flairs on the silken white vest to differentiate itself from the one he'd owned before. Even his bowtie had a subtle pattern stitched into its fabric that indicated its quality, and Jameson ran his thumbs over the material after tying up the accessory. Manners dictated that he should slick his hair back, and he'd borrowed some product from Albert to handle the styling that showed off the broad set of his forehead and left his face unframed.
It was in this attire that he would bring the Earl Charleville's life to an end.
That promise alone was the sole reason that Jameson could even stand to meet with the man in the first place. While he hadn't expressed such a desire beforehand, the fact that he felt such a thing did not come as a surprise to Jameson at all. It had always been there, a rage tampered down deep inside of him for the sake of survival. But, with his previous shackles gone, there was no need to restrain that anger.
He had missed his opportunity with Stratford, but Charleville would not receive anywhere near the same mercy.
But while that miraculous outcome was to be on the schedule, there was first a dinner to make it through. Charleville had all but proposed a meal together with the Moriartys himself, so there was no sense in not taking advantage of it—and if William explained it as such, Jameson was wont to believe him. After all, as a crime consultant, William had far more experience in such matters.
Jameson had been waiting for the chance to exact retribution for years. A handful more hours were a mere trifle in comparison to that.
Assuming that I can stand being in his presence that long.
That would be the most complex matter of the affair, no doubt about it. Of course, Jameson had plenty of practice at swallowing his true disgust down and acting as expected of him. He was a well-trained doll, and he could make his smile as pretty as he wished. To confirm that fact, Jameson did so in the mirror in that moment, and the result was as expected. It was so, so easy to put on that mask and trick everyone in the process.
The issue was that he no longer wanted to do such a thing.
Jameson was still piecing together who he was, but he knew that obedient toy was not it in the slightest. With William and the others, he didn't have to act as expected. Piece by piece, his genuine feelings were leaking out. In fact, the desire to murder the Earl Charleville felt far more like his true self than anything that Jameson had done over the past eight years.
Just hold yourself together a bit longer. And then you can unleash that inferno inside you for all that it's worth. William ensured that your patron died, and he helped you burn everything down without any issue at all. This plan will go without problems as well.
Jameson would not allow himself to be the one to destroy that opportunity.
The knock on the door broke him through his thoughts, and Jameson thought that sound indicated that it was Albert making a visit, rather than William. Albert's hand tended to be stronger, the knocks firmer, but not enough to be a bang loud enough to startle. Enroute to answer, Jameson glanced at the clock, finding that he hadn't lost anywhere as much time as he'd expected. Which begged the question of why Albert was stopping by in the first place.
"Ah, you look as handsome as expected," Albert said once Jameson opened the door, and Jameson tried his best to contain his blush. Any effort in such a fashion was in vain, as Albert dropped a kiss across Jameson's knuckles the next moment. "Do you have any issues with your attire? It looks as if it fits well to me, but I could be wrong."
"No, everything's fine," Jameson said, gesturing to allow Albert into the room. "Just like before, Mr Eden's work is impeccable. It almost feels like a shame to wear this considering what's going to become of it…"
Albert's laugh was a warm, bubbling sound, one that suggested that he didn't find the concept to be a bother in the slightest. "That is one of the side-effects of things like this, after all. We do have to make some sacrifices." He reached out, brushing back a stray piece of hair that Jameson had failed to mould into the rest of his stylings. "It wouldn't do for you to show up to this restaurant in anything but your finest possible dress. And since you won't be able to change beforehand…"
"I suppose it can't be helped." Jameson sighed, running his hands over his hair to ensure no other strands had escaped their proper position. "Still, don't tell me that you came all this way just to ask me about my opinions on my wardrobe."
"If I did would that be so bad?" Recognizing that Albert was speaking in jest, Jameson didn't even bother to respond. "That being said, I'm more concerned about the other additions to your wardrobe than your outward appearance. Is the holster comfortable? Does it feel that you can reach it without issue?"
At the mere mention of it, Jameson reached to his lower back, finding the holster with the knife attached there. Needless to say, Stratford had had no benefit to teaching Jameson how to defend himself; in fact, it would have been much more of an active detriment. And while a week was nowhere enough time to gain mastery of such an item, Jameson was confident enough in his ability to stab the sharp end into his chosen target, and all the more so with the element of surprise on his side. In fact, he looked forward to that moment with intense anticipation.
Following the motion he'd been practicing the past few days, Jameson unsheathed the knife, taking care to not slash through the back of his tailcoat in the process. "I don't have any problems reaching it, but I still feel awkward taking it out…"
"That's rather normal if you don't have much experience. Still, if all goes well, there won't be good enough light for him to notice, so you won't have to be too careful." Jameson nodded, running over the plan in his mind once more. Even so, his anxiety bubbled inside him, and Albert clapped a reassuring hand against Jameson's back. "You don't need to worry. Will's already more than accounted for any complications. If anything happens, Louis will be there to help you, and it won't be long until I follow."
While some of that reassurance was received well, Jameson couldn't help but wonder if things would go as well as everyone expected. "I appreciate it, Albert, but I still…" Seeing as they'd discussed the matter beforehand, there wasn't any harm in bringing it up again. Knowing his own expressions well, Jameson was aware that his smile was rather apologetic. "It's unfair of me to say, but I don't know if my counting on Louis to take care of things for me is the most reliable approach."
There wasn't much other choice in the matter, what with how the whole of the strategy was to play out. Even so, that meant that, for a short period of time, Louis would be the one source of backup that Jameson had access to. And if he still didn't trust Jameson, what to stop him from letting Jameson take the fall, washing the Moriarty family's hands free of any association with Jameson whatsoever? It would be a convenient way to eliminate any risk, as it were.
"Ah," Albert said, that single syllable enough to tell Jameson that his fears weren't all the way unfounded. Still, Albert recovered in a rather admirable fashion the next moment. "I can't blame you for having such doubts. However, you've but known Louis for a short amount of time, and while he's been wary of you at that. Can I share my opinions as his elder brother who's known him for quite some time?" Jameson nodded, pulling up the back of his jacket to sheath his knife again while he listened. "No matter how much Louis might dislike you, it would take far much more than that for him to betray William's expectations."
Jameson blinked, not having prepared himself for such an answer at all. Seeing that he didn't have any sort of counterargument, Albert continued:
"William has decided that this is a case that we should go ahead and handle. And that means, no matter his personal feelings in the matter, Louis will follow his role through. The thought of ruining one of Will's plans won't even cross his mind." Albert gave Jameson another pat on the shoulder, and that time it was enough to dispel most of the cloud of doubt that had been swirling in his stomach. "And, well, to a lesser extent, he also values my opinion. So no matter how little he might trust you, our bond as brothers is important to him—to all of us. Does that help?"
"A little?" That didn't mean there was to be a chance that Louis couldn't break that reading of him, but there was no point in worrying about such things. Jameson supposed if he had to choose between killing Charleville and taking the fall or not being able to kill him at all, then he'd take the risks of the former any time. "In any event, I'm not changing my resolve. Charleville is going to die tonight."
It was a testament to Albert's calm that his peaceful smile didn't so much as waver at the words. Or perhaps that was a result of several years committing yourself to such endeavours, the aftermath of orchestrating a fire to kill your own blood relatives for the sake of your ideals.
"Yes," Albert said, with a mildness that suggested they were discussing nothing more than the menu for their upcoming dinner, "I'm certain he will."
Jameson was grateful that Albert had taken him out for dinner before. It would have been wasteful to have his first experience enjoying fine dining whilst dressed as a man be in the presence of the Earl Charleville.
Despite his high position, the Earl Charleville was one of the newest regulars that Jameson had been forced to entertain, their history not even stretching out for the entirety of half a year. Though that was nothing to the total years Jameson had suffered such abuse, the Earl Charleville had taken full advantage of his allowed time. If he proffered the money and there weren't any conflicts, Stratford had given him ample permission to do as he pleased.
And yet, seeing him in the well-lit restaurant rather than in the dark did wonders for Jameson's mental state. It also helped that, without even saying anything on the matter, William had taken the seat to Jameson's left, whilst Albert had taken the seat across from him, leaving as much space between Jameson and the Earl as possible. Between that and the soothing music being played by a live strong quartet, the situation didn't feel threatening at all—at least for the time being.
"What luck it is that I found you," Earl Charleville said, and the worst part was that it sounded like he meant it. As someone in his mid-thirties, his jaw was sharp and host to a short-cut beard, the colour of which was a lighter shade of black that had yet to descend into wisps of grey. "I wasn't sure at first, you know. Imagine my surprise when I found you dressed in such a way! But I confess I don't mind at all. I'm just glad that my guess was correct, and we were able to meet again."
"Yes, of course," Jameson said, his voice as polite as ever for dealing with such people. A part of him wondered what William and Albert thought of him in that moment, but it wasn't anywhere near the priority at hand. "Though I hope you don't think me too crass for accepting your invitation so soon after my patron…"
While it had taken Jameson some time to wrap his mind around the manners held in such esteem by the higher classes, he knew full well how to use them to his advantage. By acting as if it was improper for Jameson to accept the invitation while he was supposed to be in mourning—as his guardian, Stratford should have been worth at least a few months of such withdrawal from social engagements, never mind the fact that Jameson hadn't even been allowed that much over the loss of his own mothers—he was putting Charleville on the back foot, preventing him from pressing the subject too much further.
If Jameson had to pretend that he was in any way upset by Stratford's death to the Earl Charleville of all people, he'd be sick.
Oblivious to that, Charleville's eyes went wide. "No, no, not at all. In fact, I appreciate you taking the time to see me." To the side, William sipped at his wine, his eyes observing with an impassiveness that was almost enough to make him look like another person altogether. Charleville didn't notice that, either, and he continued, "I'm glad that you seem to be doing well, though. After losing your home on top of it, too, I was worried you might've been lost considering your…" For the first time, he acknowledged the Moriarty brothers at the table, in the form of a furtive glance, as if he was uncertain of how much they knew. "Circumstances."
Charleville's lack of subtlety would have been more offensive if the Moriarty brothers weren't already aware of the majority of the situation. As it were, Jameson was still already feeling impatient, and they had yet to make it to the first course. Albert must've read the mood, as he stepped up to say, "I assure you, Jameson is well taken care of." Charleville looked at him, and Albert flashed a handsome smile that was disarming enough for Jameson to be affected by it, and he wasn't even the intended target. "There's no way we'd let him endure anything less than the best, after all."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure…" The implication that Charleville was a far cry from the best seemed to fly over his head, and Jameson hid his amused smile in his wine glass. He would have to pace himself—no becoming as intoxicated as he'd been the week prior—but a sip or two shouldn't pose a problem, even with his lower tolerance. "Well, in any event, a toast to fortuitous encounters!" Their glasses clinked together, and Jameson kept tabs on how much Charleville was drinking. If the Earl were drunk, it would make Jameson's job all the easier. "That said, you know, Stratford and I were rather close; I'm sure he'd want you to stay with someone he could trust…"
Not even bothering to wait to bring it up, are you? Jameson had known that such a request would be coming, and he knew it would be for the plan's benefit for him to give an enthusiastic response, or at least a coy one. But no amount of mental preparation could prevent the shiver of disgust that threatened to race up his spine, the utter reminder of what his patron's "trust" was worth—as if Charleville had been that close with him in the first place!
It was disgusting, and he didn't want to deal with it anymore, he wanted it to be over—
And then there was a gentle touch against Jameson's thigh, and he almost screamed. Except it was William's hand and no one else's, and he gave a gentle, reassuring pat before pulling back. Jameson shouldn't have, but he caught onto William's palm again, using it to remind himself that everything was fine, everything was under control.
He did not have to face any of it alone, not anymore.
"Now, now, your lordship," William said, his voice pulling Jameson from his thoughts. "I believe we're have to have an enjoyable evening. No need to ruin it so soon with any business talk of the sort. Considering Jameson's recent loss, doesn't it seem a bit premature to…"
"Oh, my apologies!" The rate at which Charleville backpedalled was almost impressive, but even more impressive was the suggestion William had planted in the progress. Now, if Jameson looked distressed, it would seem to the Earl as if he were recalling the loss of his patron, and not the reality of the situation. "I should have been more considerate, Ve…" He cut himself off before dropping the name, but it didn't make Jameson feel any better. "Moriarty the younger is right, we should focus on happier things!"
And, somehow, Jameson managed to muster up the energy inside him to wear that smile for just a bit longer and say, "No, don't worry, my lord, I don't mind at all."
Just an hour or so more until it's all over.
If the hour and a half of the long dinner itself felt unbearable, the remaining twenty or so minutes were all the worse.
In the former's case, playing nice felt far more disgusting than it ever had before. Were it not for the regular taps of William's fingers to his under the table, Jameson might have committed the deed right in front of the entire evening dinner crowd. In the latter's case, as satisfying as the plan was going to prove to be, it didn't change the fact that it required the two of them to be alone, and at Jameson's request, no less.
It would be worth the discomfort, but it still would be discomforting, no matter the circumstance.
"Are you certain you'll be alright?" William asked in a hushed voice as the two of them pulled on their overcoats and hats before leaving. "I know you know, but I did plan for contingencies. If you wish to use an alternate plan, it won't be a trouble in the slightest."
Jameson shook his head, too concerned that his tone would betray the thread of fear inside him should he speak it out loud. "I appreciate it, William," he said, hoping his whisper would make it more difficult to discern his full feelings on the matter, though that would be but the slightest handicap to William's level of observation. "But I'll be fine. I've handled much worse than this." He refused to be cowed by such threats anymore.
With a single inhale, Jameson turned his determination on and the rest of his emotions off as a cruel sort of calm descended over him.
William must have recognized that much, because he didn't question it again. "Then I'll leave the rest to you." He caught Jameson's gloved hand in his own once more, giving an encouraging squeeze before letting go, the whole process completed with such speed it was like it hadn't even happened at all, save for the slightest lingering sense of warmth. "Remember what I told you before, Jameson: You have more than enough strength in you to do this. All we've done is show you the way." Jameson nodded, and William inclined his head. "I'll see you when you get home."
Leaving that as the final word, Jameson put on his most well-practiced smile and summoned the false cheer to go along with it before setting off.
"My lord!"
It was no surprise whatsoever that the Earl Charleville had lingered longer than necessary near the entrance. Albert had redirected the conversation into a variety of other topics over dinner, and what was to become of Jameson had not had the chance to resurface. Of course, the matter was not up to debate whatsoever, but if the Earl believed it was, then that just worked very well in Jameson's advantage.
"Ah, there you are!" Charleville said, his expression the brightest it had been all evening. Jameson managed to match that level of cheer with his own, and the Earl seemed to not be aware in the slightest that it was a falsehood. Then again, he was rather adept at ignoring anything that happened to not line up with his own desires. "I was hoping to see you again one more time. I know we agreed to not discuss things at the dinner table, but I also couldn't help but wonder if…"
"I was hoping to talk more with you, too," Jameson said, and he was almost impressed with how genuine he sounded. He'd been decent at it before, but William and Albert both had spent a bit of time coaching Jameson in his deliveries to make them even more refined than before. Hell, Jameson could even blush on command now. "Forgive me if I've stepped out of line, but I happened to reserve a private room tonight, if you'd be so inclined…"
It was almost comical how many seconds it took Charleville to recognize what Jameson was proposing. "Hm, yes. Yes, of course!" Recognizing how loud he was being, Charleville cleared his throat, and Jameson put on a patient smile. "Are you certain there won't be any issues? I wouldn't want to upset the Earl Moriarty or his brother…"
Jameson restrained himself from commenting on how Charleville seemed to be concerned over the opinion of Albert, whom most others would view as a youngster without much influence at all. Instead, he said, "There's nothing to worry about, my lord. I have a certain degree of freedom that I wasn't afforded before, so there won't be any issue at all." With a gentle casualness, he linked his arm through the Earl's. "If you're ready, I don't wish to waste your precious time. I do assume you have business to tend to in the morning."
"Right, right. I'll have to let my coachman know. Where to did you say…?"
"Again, I might have stepped out of line, but I ordered a carriage in advance. Out of concern for your privacy…"
Charleville paused a moment to think it over, and Jameson gave the man a pleading look; the Earl's already shoddy resolve didn't stand a chance. "Well, I wouldn't want to turn down such courtesy. Shall we go, then?"
"If you'll follow me, my lord."
And not even glancing back to see if William was still in the room, Jameson led the Earl Charleville out to his final stage.
It was well into the evening hours by the time they stepped outside, and most of the people were other restaurant patrons and the like boarding their own carriages. A fog had also settled in—not the thickest that Jameson had ever witnessed, but enough to further obscure the night—and the lamps lining the streets were little more than orange hazes in the distance.
That was a detail Jameson could appreciate. It would make it all the more difficult for Charleville to notice that the "private" coachman Jameson had spoken of was in fact Louis.
The earl didn't even bother to check.
Jameson hadn't had enough time to consider it before with a clear head, but it was in a situation like the current one that he could reflect on how blinded people could become by the power of lust alone. They could fail to notice the traps they were falling into, they could ignore the potential consequences for their actions in the rest of their lives, they could throw away their money in the pursuit of pleasure. Even Jameson wasn't immune to such effects; under William's careful ministrations, he'd felt himself spiralling down in a way he'd never done before.
Still, knowing what he was about to do, Jameson couldn't help but consider the Earl Charleville an utter fool for accepting such a proposal without a second thought.
And then Jameson sat down in the carriage, taking up as much space as possible so that Charleville would need to sit across from him. Jameson knew very well just how the situation was going to go, and he wasn't about to subject himself to more than necessary. You must wait until Louis gives you the signal, you must wait until Louis gives the signal—
Oh, but god, Jameson wanted to kill the man now. Patience seemed like a mirage in the distance: pretty to look at but in the end unobtainable. He settled for the fantasy, folding his hands over the other in his lap to keep them from reaching for the knife tucked up against his lower back. Funny, how a weapon could be more of a temptation than any attempt at seduction.
It was a small mercy that Charleville took the hint and sat across from Jameson, rather than attempting to squeeze into the spot beside him. The close proximity prickled against his skin, and the feeling intensified as Louis handled the closing of the carriage door and took his own seat. There was the gentle lurch of the wheels turning in motion, and then it was just a countdown, meter by meter until it was safe.
Something like anger burned a sour taste up Jameson's throat, and he swallowed it back down for the time being.
"Goodness, it's been years since I've done anything of this sort," Charleville said, and Jameson kept silent. That was how most of their interactions went, after all, and the Earl had no issue with holding a conversation with himself. "You wouldn't know, I'm sure, but a lot of us had wild public school days. It was around then that I realized the value of good manners and obedience in bed. Oh, but you needn't worry," he added, as if Jameson had the remotest concern of the matter, "in all my years, you're by far my favourite of them all. I think my concern was very understandable, considering I know I'm not the only one who has such an interest in you. But it's just my luck that I found you first!"
It would be so satisfying to jam the blade of his knife into Charleville's throat to shut him up, the plan be damned. Jameson had been half considering it until a handful of the words he'd been ignoring registered in his mind, stilling everything inside him as he put it together.
"There were others looking for me?" Jameson asked, not even needing to try to sound concerned. It hadn't even been a full month yet, and Charleville had seemed like happenstance. Why would anyone be searching for him with purpose?
No, he knew the answer to that. He just hadn't wanted to imagine it.
"I don't know if I would say that," Charleville said. "I just happened to cross paths with Westmeath while at a social function the other day, and we both expressed our concern. But I didn't have the intention of sharing you at all—it may be wrong to speak ill of the dead, but my household doesn't need any such donations to maintain itself. It might involve some negotiating with the Moriarty boy, but I'm more than willing to do that. You'll be able to maintain the same level of comfort as before, too, so there's nothing for you to worry about."
Of course you'd think that place was comfortable, wouldn't you? Of course you'd just be the first that wants to strip away the freedom I've gotten—the freedom that had become so, so fragile with just a few words. Jameson let out a long breath, that cruelty inside him sharpening ever further. One month would not be the limit to his freedom, Jameson refused—
And then, almost too quiet to hear, the soft note of a whistle from Louis at the front of the carriage, indicating that the course was clear.
"…About how much further would you say it is?" Charleville was asking, and Jameson took several seconds longer than he should have to process the question. His stare must have been somewhat judgmental, because the Earl continued, "I don't mind the wait, but if beforehand, I could bother you for a little…"
Ah. That implication hit Jameson much sooner than the one before it, which he suspected was because of how many times he had been subjected to such things. When it came down to it, he was impressed that Charleville had even asked. But asked he had, and that just made things all the easier for Jameson, so he put on an inviting smile and purred, "Just a little, my lord."
Good thing it was dark inside; Jameson didn't want to see the way the man's face must've lit up at the allowance. Charleville stood up, and the space between them closed within a handful of uncomfortable seconds. The carriage ride was smooth, but Charleville supported himself with his hands on the wall behind him. It wouldn't be anything too much, not while they were still in the carriage, but even that little bit was more than Jameson would allow to happen to himself ever again.
Charleville approached, his mouth heading for Jameson's lips.
The knife sunk into the Earl's stomach first.
It was a sensation like no other, the feeling of digging a blade into someone's flesh. The stomach was easy enough to attack, with no bones in the way to stop the weapon's advance. The knife was a decent size, too, sinking in deep and leaving a wide wound in its wake, the kind that would bleed out if the weapon were removed and the injury were left untended.
Jameson yanked back on the knife as he kicked Charleville away from him. The man stumbled, missing his former seat and dropping to the floor instead, shock keeping him mute for the time being. The carriage shook from the impact, but Louis didn't stop driving. Jameson stood.
Charleville's mind caught up to what was happening as he stared down at his stomach. A palm pressed against the wound, and he pulled it away, staring at the blood as Jameson stood over him. It would be easy to leave it like that, to just drive around until the man bled out, but that wouldn't do, that wasn't enough.
"Wh-what…?" Charleville looked up. "You… I don't under—"
"No, I guess you wouldn't." Jameson sighed, adjusting his grip on the knife. "But it's fine. You see, I don't feel like explaining anymore. You were never very good at listening." His body trembled with adrenaline, with the utter high and satisfaction of it all. "Don't bother with trying to beg. I'm going to cut your throat, and then I'm going to be the one that gets to have fun for once."
"No wait, please—"
Jameson made good on both his promises, one after the other.
If it was Louis's job to handle the transport part of the crime, it was Albert's job to provide the alibi and convenient distraction afterwards. Given his army experience, along with the training he'd received as a boy from Maestro Jack, he was more than capable than taking up the mantle of providing a convenient scapegoat and getting away with it, too. It was just a matter of waiting for the timing, and even regular military vigils meant he could stand such surveillance for far more than the less than an hour William had asked of him.
It still was a relief whenever he saw the carriage pull up before the hotel with the familiar shape of Louis at the reigns. Louis disembarked with a casual ease, and he adjusted his hat to the angle that confirmed it: Jameson had completed what he wished to do, and so it was showtime.
Albert was moving before he even had time to process the thought. He'd changed clothes, shifting from his formal attire into an outfit designed for stealth—not one of his military pieces, but one inspired as such in design that it accomplished the same thing. That said, the intent was to be invisible now, not later, and he shoved his way past a couple of gentlemen out for a smoke, earning startled shouts. Good, that just meant there were extra witnesses to the whole affair.
Louis was elbowed out of the way next, though his stumble was with half affected drama. The carriage door banged open next with enough force that Jameson looked startled, though he'd known it was coming.
Charleville, already lying dead on the floor, didn't react whatsoever.
"No problems?" Albert asked, and Jameson shook his head. That was satisfactory enough, and Albert snatched onto the shoulder of Charleville's jacket, hefting him up with a bit of exertion. They'd swapped the carriage out so most of the blood was gone, obscuring the true scene of the crime, though some dripped onto the floor now. "I can congratulate you more in the morning. Pass me the knife." Jameson obeyed, handling the weapon with a cloth. He'd changed his clothes, too, looking pristine; if it weren't for the rest of the mess, Albert would have never suspected he'd done the deed—though there was something in his expression that also gave it away, if you knew him. "Don't forget to make it convincing when you scream, alright?"
Jameson sucked in a breath and let loose a high-pitched shriek that was near impossible to tell it was faked.
From outside, Louis shouted, "Jameson!" with just as much conviction to his tone. It was almost impossible to determine either of their true feelings on the matter.
And because Albert was not one to be outdone by any means, he threw Charleville's corpse out the open door and right onto the road before the hotel's front entrance. Albert followed, leaping out and stabbing the blade into the body in full view of the other men who were nearby. There was also the clopping of hooves as another carriage arrived, which just made making the whole situation seem believable a lot easier. He stabbed a few more times for good measure, then yanked it out, leaping away before Louis could catch him in his grasp. Albert was already vanishing into the fog before anyone else shouted, and it didn't even take any effort to escape the couple of people who did try to pursue him.
As with every other one of William's plans, the operation had gone without a hitch.
It was, as expected, late before Jameson and Louis made it back home, but the excitement of pulling the whole endeavour off was keeping him awake. In fact, he very much suspected that he'd be up the whole of the night, but he didn't mind whatsoever. While he'd felt it the night he'd burnt down the Stratford manor, something about the act of pure, unbridled violence had made him feel much more alive than he had in years. William had been right: he was capable of grasping his freedom with his own hands, no matter what seemed to stand in the way.
It, just like the moment of driving the knife into Charleville's stomach, was exhilarating.
Were there to be more concerns in the future? Yes, but Jameson didn't wish to dwell on them now. No, he wanted to celebrate, wanted to share the moment with someone else. And since Albert had other matters to attend to and Louis—as helpful as he had been in executing the plan—didn't seem open to spending any sort of time together.
And, if he had the choice (and it was a reminder that he did, in fact, have the choice), Jameson would go and celebrate his victory with William.
The trick was finding him, seeing as he wasn't in his office. He didn't even seem to be in his bedroom, judging by the lack of response to the knock on his door. Jameson frowned, but there wasn't any real dent left in his mood, and that was even more the case whenever it occurred to him that William might be waiting up for everyone to return home in the parlour.
That hypothesis happened to be correct, and Jameson entering the room lead to William turning to the door, a cigarette halfway to his lips. There was a faint moment that almost looked like he'd been surprised by the intrusion, but that smoothed out into what was fast becoming Jameson's favourite smile. "Welcome back, Jameson. I'm afraid the tea's already gone cold, but I can make you some more if you like."
"No, that's fine," Jameson said, letting the door shut behind him. While he didn't think food or drink would make him nauseous, he did feel content without it. "I appreciate the offer, though." Noticing that there was enough space on the couch to do so, Jameson dropped himself into the available seat—a much more inviting space than the atmosphere in the carriage or even the restaurant before it. "I didn't realize you smoked."
"No more than on occasion." Not even bothering to take one last drag from it, William put the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray that was clean save for its most recent use, about half a stick's worth of ash in the bottom. "Though I hope you won't object to my changing the topic from my habits to your wellbeing." Well, not if he was going to put that much care into the process, Jameson wouldn't. "How are you feeling?"
There was one answer to that and one answer to that alone: "Wonderful." If Jameson were to compare the feeling to anything else he'd felt in his life, the one moment that surpassed it would be that crafted bliss William had brought him to that first night in bed. "It felt…amazing. To know that he's gone. To know that I stopped him."
"I see." As always, William's thoughts were unreadable from his face alone, but Jameson didn't mind much. "In which case, I'm glad I could help."
"You've done much more than help." William blinked once, and Jameson could feel the words welling up inside him. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jameson rested his head on William's shoulder. "If you hadn't showed up, I… I don't think I would have made it," he whispered, and it felt like such an awful but undeniable truth. "Even if Stratford died, if you hadn't come to find me, I wouldn't have known what to do with myself—I would've been taken by someone else and used until I broke." Because no one, least of all Charleville, would have asked Jameson what he wanted, would have assured him it was okay to take his time to figure it out.
William had done so, and Jameson would never forget that.
Because of their relative positions, Jameson couldn't see William's face, but he was silent for a while. Jameson didn't mind. He was just glad that he felt safe and comfortable and that there was a giddiness bubbling up inside him that made him glad to be alive, made him glad that he'd survived as long as he had.
"I don't want to talk about it much right now," Jameson said, knowing that William would respect that request, "but the Earl mentioned that…someone else was interested in finding me." William's shoulder tensed beneath Jameson's ear. Jameson hadn't said it outright, hadn't wanted to admit the full depravity of what he'd gone through, so he hadn't said anything. But if there was the slightest risk of someone intruding on his freedom again, Jameson didn't want to play on defensive. "There were…a few more regulars is what I'm saying. And if you don't mind, I…"
"You wish to kill them as well?" William asked, sounding so understanding that it almost broke Jameson's heart. He nodded. "Whenever you're ready to discuss it, we'll arrange something, then. If we can afford it, it might be best to space them out so there aren't any obvious connections, but, again, those are details we can sort out later." He paused a moment, then took Jameson's closest hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Your freedom includes seeking that vengeance for yourself, and I assure you I'll help you see it through."
Jameson shut his eyes, letting the words seep over him. They were even prettier than he'd imagined, even more incredible to see the possibility they opened up. It made it feel as if, rather than being contained because he was a victim, Jameson had been kept in a cage so that he wouldn't be able to bring harm to those who dared to hurt him.
Well, the cage was gone, and he wasn't going back to it.
"Thank you," Jameson said, then repeated it again, because once didn't seem like enough. Except that didn't feel like enough, either, so he twined his fingers through William's, enjoying the delicate sensation of warm human contact and said it once more, except it was less that he formed the words and more that he spilled them into William's lips with his own, the kiss gentle and welcoming and just one small piece of everything Jameson wanted to experience. So he pulled William's hand towards him, letting the palm press up against his cheek as an invitation.
"Jameson," William murmured, and that was incentive enough for Jameson to pull William atop of him, Jameson's back sinking into the couch. "Jameson," William repeated, "are you alright to continue?"
It seemed like such a foolish question—whyever wouldn't he be alright to continue? And then he remembered his previous reaction, the way the unwanted memories of the past had surged up in him. But in that moment, he didn't feel the touches of his past. No, he felt the memory of blood on his hands, hot and sticky, and he felt powerful.
"I want to try," he said, the confidence in his voice surprising even him. "I want to keep trying with you, until I don't remember anymore." That last wish might be impossible, but it felt like a certainty, so long as William was with him. Still, the chance that he could back out again lingered, the one sour note that made him wonder if William would even put up with Jameson long enough to one day see it through. "You said I could practice with you, yes?"
Those last words came out small, his boldness fading, but William gave his beautiful smile. "Indeed I did." He brushed his thumb over a patch of Jameson's freckles, and there was a glint of that budding desire in his eyes. "However, allow me to say this again so that you remember: if you need me to stop, tell me, and I will listen, Jameson. I promise you."
"Alright." The word came out as a whisper, tinged with the slightest bit of the disbelief that Jameson couldn't contain. But he'd come far enough, and he wanted to trust William so bad that it hurt. Jameson swallowed, then he reached up to push William down into another kiss.
There was some slight rearrangement as William adjusted to be in a more comfortable position, and the firelight made his pale hair look even brighter in the dark. The next kiss involved a fresh swirl of tongue, Jameson taking the lead in exploring William's mouth. The other man's palm slid down Jameson's side, gentle but without insisting on taking more, no desperate grabs. William hadn't even dropped his body on top of Jameson's yet, leaving that space and creating that gentle build-up that made things feel as if they would be okay.
William's mouth kissed across Jameson's cheeks and to his neck, and Jameson released a pleased hum to encourage him further. "I believe," William said in that tantalizing purr, "that before you said our night together was the first time you'd enjoyed yourself to such an extent."
Between his embarrassment and the tickling sensation of William's mouth against his neck, it was a bit difficult to form words, but Jameson did manage to breath out his answer of "Y-yes."
"I'd like to know what made that the case." Oh, Jameson was going to have to think; why was it that such little attention from William could make him feel dizzy? "I know that night was in part because you were pressured to, but if we could recreate some of the more favourable conditions—"
"No." William paused, the confusion evident on his face, and Jameson realized just how that response could be subject to misinterpretation. "Not the second part. I mean, rather…" He'd admitted so much of his sins already; what was making him hesitate to speak the reason? "That night. Yes, it had to be someone. But I chose you. I saw you, and I wanted you."
The silence dragged out, and Jameson wondered if he'd spoken something that he should have been kept secret. But then William chuckled. "I see," he said, moving his hand to rest, hot yet caring, atop Jameson's hip. "Then what made that the case?"
Jameson's face had been somewhat warm before, but there was no denying that it had become a blazing inferno. "You were, well… You're an attractive man, William James Moriarty. The fact that you attempted to seduce me just made that all the more apparent." And then, remembering the words William himself had spoken, Jameson added, "Shall I admit that I couldn't resist you?"
"I'm honoured." While William managed to keep his voice even, Jameson thought his smile seemed a bit broader than usual. "Well, I hope that I haven't disappointed you in that regard now that we've become more acquainted."
"I don't believe such a thing is possible." Yes, Jameson enjoyed William's looks, but the additional company showed that he was wonderful to be around in more ways than Jameson had been able to imagine a single person was capable of. "If anything, you've made yourself even more appealing to me." Remembering the original question, Jameson said, "But I think I also enjoyed myself so much because you took the time to take care of me. No one's ever…"
"I see." The frown that settled onto William's face didn't damage his good looks in the slightest—and then he'd washed the expression away. "Then how about this as a proposal: rather than making this about the both of us, I think you deserve to be taken care of in full without any concern for my pleasure."
It shouldn't have been that revolutionary of a suggestion—Jameson had participated in such exchanges before, though the difference was that he'd been the one whose pleasure in the matter was left to the wayside. That was part of what made him so hesitant, even whenever he wanted to indulge. After all, what would stop William from re-enacting such a scenario, taking and taking until Jameson had nothing left?
Jameson wouldn't have been able to stop him. He had been trained to endure, after all.
So it was something that sounded far more like a beautiful dream than a reality, and Jameson swallowed, the anxiety remaining a hot ball in his throat. "That's…" he said, not sure of what the end of the sentence was supposed to be. "I've already left you hanging two times before, that wouldn't be—"
The silken touch of William's finger against his lips stilled Jameson's words. "While I agree that it's best that two partners have an equal exchange while indulging in each other, I don't mind making an exception. After all, you've already had so much taken from you by others. While you're still adjusting, I don't mind being the one that gives to you instead." Jameson trembled from the thought, but there must have been a trace of his uncertainty in his face still, because William added, "If it makes you feel better, we can discuss the matter further whenever I'm done taking care of you. Until then, we'll consider my orgasm optional, with the full promise that I won't be disappointed if it doesn't happen."
Hearing that as an option shouldn't have brought as much relief to Jameson as it did, and yet the sensation washed through him without restraint. Even setting aside his past sexual experiences, something about not paying William back for any of his kindness didn't settle right. But the important thing to remember was that he was granting Jameson the choice, and it would stay on the table until he made the final decision.
"Alright," Jameson whispered. "I accept those terms."
"Then we have a deal." William's mouth closed over Jameson's once more, and then his hands slid over Jameson's sides, already making his spine arc with enjoyment. One of those palms squeezed against Jameson's hip, and the other slid over the outer edge of his thigh. "So aside from pursuing your pleasure above all else, what else did you enjoy me doing before?"
It was already becoming difficult enough to think straight with those continuous, methodical caresses, let alone recall what had happened before. Except that wasn't true in the slightest, because Jameson had taken care to preserve that memory, and it was a mix of everything: the care in exploring his body, the way William hadn't touched anywhere Jameson hadn't wanted, the way he'd hummed out compliments without the slightest hesitation of continuing once he'd learned that Jameson's body hadn't matched up with his expectations.
All of it together had just been so perfect that Jameson had almost forgotten he'd ever experienced otherwise.
William's teeth were a gentle tug against Jameson's earlobe, overlapping the past and the present into a delirious haze. "You seem to be thinking quite hard there, dear."
It had been forming already, but it was the first time that the heat brewing inside him flared hot enough to cause his walls to clench around nothing but himself. "That," Jameson said, his voice a breath. "C-call me that again." Somehow, the admission of one item made it easy for the rest to spill out of his mouth, or perhaps that was the effect of William trailing gentle kisses across his throat. "Call my name. M-make it clear you're enjoying me and no one else. Keep treating me like I'm worth it, even if I'm…"
"Jameson." The careful pressure of his name stole the rest of the sentence from him, instead letting a whimper spill out of Jameson's mouth. William's own lips formed into a smile. "Jameson, my dear, you're more than worth this much attention. You're worth far more than I could give you." His hands came together, pulling Jameson's thighs apart with a gentleness that made Jameson wish the fabric of his trousers weren't in the way, and yet he was grateful they were. No one had ever explored him like that, not without tearing his clothes off and taking what they wanted. Whenever William caressed across Jameson's crotch, he moaned, inching his hips closer, seeking more. "I daresay, just hearing you moan like that for me would be reward enough."
Jameson wasn't a stranger to fielding others' tastes, but he didn't think he'd heard someone admit to such a thing before. "W-would that be in general, or…?"
"I will admit to a general inclination, but your voice is more enjoyable than most." And then, as if to prove his point, William pressed against Jameson's core once again, adding more pressure, and William's name spilled out of Jameson's mouth with increased volume. "Good, just like that, my dear." Oh, William was going to overwhelm him again, and that wasn't such a poor outcome at all. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem to respond well to compliments, yes?"
Did he? Jameson hadn't noticed. Previous praise had often been calling him something he wasn't, had been for people encouraging him to give up his control. But with William's words, it was like a gentle warmth enveloping him. Whether that was the effect of the change in context or the man himself, it was uncertain, but, as it were, the answer William's inquiry was an affirmative one, and Jameson managed to nod as another moan stole the ability to speak from him.
William's chuckle was satisfied, and that sound added further to the pleasure as his hands continued to explore. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, then, Jameson."
"Mm, William. I-I'd like to…" He almost left the sentence unfinished, but he recalled William's earlier instruction that it would have more power if he said it. "I'm ready. Please touch me more."
"Oh, already?" Jameson nodded, not trusting himself to get the words out, and William left him with another kiss before lifting up. As impossible as it seemed, William seemed to have become even more beautiful since they'd started. "I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, then. Would you want me to handle your clothes, or would you feel better taking care of it yourself?"
Jameson's first instinct was to let William handle it—and then he remembered the way he'd reacted at just having his tie undone, and decided against it for the time being. "I'll do it this time." William gave him the space to do so, and Jameson sat up, taking care of his belt and undoing his buttons. That would be enough space to work with, so long as he loosened his undershorts as well. As he handled that, Jameson also turned around, letting his back rest up against William, enjoying the warmth of that contact. "William, please."
"Whatever you want, Jameson." Ah, hearing William so close to him just spiked his arousal up even further, and Jameson could feel the wetness welled up inside him—one that grew all the more apparent as William's hand worked its way into Jameson's clothes and between his folds. William started with a slow pace, but Jameson squirmed into the contact, encouraging him to pick it up more, give him every ounce of the pleasure Jameson knew he was capable of. There were a few dips of the fingers inside him that Jameson squeezed against—and then William was playing with his clitoris in short, rapid strokes. "Now, if I remember right, you reacted the most when I…"
William found the sensitive spot along the side that almost tipped Jameson over in an instant, and it was the subsequent moves that followed that completed it, letting the orgasm pull him along as Jameson moaned, repeating William's name and demanding more, which was given to him without the slightest argument on the matter. The result left him out of breath, and William didn't slow at all, dragging the sensation out as long as Jameson could stand it, which happened to be quite a while as William kissed into Jameson's neck and hummed against his skin.
No, that first night hadn't been a dream, hadn't been some fantasy Jameson had cobbled together to convince himself that everything was alright; William Jameson Moriarty was real, and he was wonderful, the taste of freedom and sugar and heaven blended into one.
"Oh, William," Jameson murmured, having caught onto William's sleeve where his free arm had wrapped around Jameson's chest.
"Satisfied, my dear?" Humming out half an answer, Jameson nodded. William retracted his hand, not bothering to wipe away the mess first, and Jameson was well aware of the way William chose to clean off his fingers in his mouth, his own moan rumbling in his chest. "I didn't get too much of a taste last time, but it's delightful as I remember."
"I-I'm glad you enjoy it." Not just his face, but Jameson's whole body was warm, a fantastic pulse of satisfaction slipping through him. "That was…wonderful. Thank you for being patient with me, William."
"I did swear to help you with your desires, after all." And he was doing an incredible job at it, too. William adjusted, making it more comfortable for Jameson to rest back against his chest. "What about you, Jameson? Are you feeling comfortable still? Again, take your time to think about it and answer."
While he'd been planning to say that he was, in fact, comfortable, Jameson did as requested and thought it over. But even then, his response remained the same: "Yes. I didn't feel uncomfortable at all." He might have enjoyed indulging more, but what he'd already received was more than enough for the present moment. "You…make me feel safe, William."
"Then I shall strive to continue to do so." That promise was as wonderful as everything else William James Moriarty had said to him, and Jameson sunk deeper into the shape of the embrace, letting the comfort fill up his heart and mind, until he was overflowing with it all. That said, a natural consequence of such was that Jameson became very aware of William's own arousal, and he jolted as it caught him by surprise. "Ah, apologies," William said, noticing within the next moment what had spurned on the reaction. "I'm afraid that listening to your voice has managed to work me up more to a degree that I can't hide it."
Before, Jameson had thought William had been saying it to be considerate, but, no, it had been the truth, and it had been to quite an effective extent. And on top of that, William had admitted that Jameson was the cause of that appeal, too. For once, Jameson didn't feel disgusted to know that he could bring someone to that state. In fact, it felt wonderful, emboldening, and enough for Jameson to adjust so that he was sitting on his knees on the cushion, facing William.
"I promise I've thought about it," Jameson said, looking William straight in those scarlet eyes to ensure that his resolve was steady. "It may be optional, but I'd like to take care of you in return." Yes, part of it was a wish to return the favour, but that wasn't all of it. Jameson wanted to see William slipping into that pleasure as well, wanted to hear that voice calling Jameson's name in an expression of ecstasy.
And Jameson wanted to cause that with his own hands.
William surveyed Jameson for a long minute, almost like he was searching for a sign of a lie. But Jameson was genuine, and William must have noticed that, because he reached out, caressing Jameson's cheek with his tongue. "If that's what you want to do, Jameson, I'd be remiss to deny you the opportunity." William adjusted, leaning back to lounge against the couch's armrest, that simple movement enough to put the whole of him on display. "Enjoy as much as you like. You have complete control, Jameson."
You have complete control.
He did, and that was more than enough to press him forward. Jameson didn't have it in him to go too far, but he was more than confident in his ability to use his hands to great effect. So he leaned forward to give William a kiss, not wasting any time to undo his belt, releasing some of the pressure on his erection. While Jameson had become rather familiar with having it inside him, he hadn't had a good opportunity to observe William's penis until that moment: a bit on the thin size, and the right length to fit inside him without having to force the matter but still leaving him feeling full. Whenever Jameson ran a finger up the side, tracing the impression of a vein, a sound caught in William's throat, but he kept it down, though his face was tense from the effort. It was such a difference from the smoothness he'd displayed not even a couple of minutes before that Jameson thought he might fall in love all over again.
Now what would he look like whenever he was on the verge of—?
Jameson didn't want to wait to find out. It took some spit as a starter lube, but that was more than enough for Jameson to get a comfortable grip around William's length and start moving without too much uncomfortable friction. William let out a low groan, and Jameson continued, experimenting with the speed and tightness of his hand until he earned a somewhat louder call of "Jameson."
"God, you're perfect," Jameson murmured, his forehead pressing into William's. "Say my name like that again."
William complied, the second utterance even more enjoyable than the first. Those scarlet eyes were lidded, and his breaths were becoming somewhat uneven, though not to such an extent that he was panting just yet. Jameson was confident that he would fix that, it was just a matter of time. "Jameson," William said again, "you're wonderful. Please, just like that…" Jameson smiled, moving just a bit to make it easier to do as requested. The net result was that he ended up straddling one of William's thighs, but he was certain both of them viewed it as a fortuitous arrangement. "Mm, you're far too good to me, dear."
"I'm just showing my appreciation for everything you've done." William's lips fluttered open, and Jameson gave an extra squeeze to turn it into another groan. "And before you say so, I know it's not necessary. But I'm also doing this because I enjoy it, William." He was having so much fun that Jameson thought he might burst. "I like hearing you call for me. I like knowing that you're enjoying yourself because of me and not imagining anyone else." The feeling of being desired for himself and himself alone was near rapturous.
"I can't imagine thinking of anyone else when you're doing this." William's words had slipped into his deeper register, and there was a tremble to them, though he wasn't yet unable to form complete sentences. "The one thing I could even want is more of you."
Jameson shivered, and it was almost enough to make him forget that he was supposed to be the seductor, rather than the one falling to temptation. But he wasn't about to lose sight of what he'd set out to do, and he bit onto William's lower lip, dragging it out as he gripped all the tighter, the presence of William's early release making his movement even easier. "If you think so much of me, then you should come for me." William's breath caught, and Jameson settled for a deep kiss, his free hand tugging at William's hair to push him closer. That seemed to be the right move to make, as soon there was a longer moan that Jameson pulled away to hear the full tail end of, and the fact that it was followed by another call of his name made it all the better to hear. "Go ahead, give me everything you have."
William's orgasm continued, Jameson not stopping until he was certain he'd pulled out the full amount of his release. Thanks to their positioning, the couch was spared of any mess, though both of their slacks were a bit worse for wear. All things considered, it felt like a fair trade. William, looking gorgeous in his satisfaction, cupped Jameson's cheeks to kiss him again, gentle palms against flushed cheeks. "I hope," William said, "that will suffice."
"For now." That response earned a breathy chuckle, but no objections of any kind. "I will want to enjoy more of you in the future, William. You can rest assured of that."
"And I will look forward to that, my dear." Jameson found that he was looking forward to it, too. As silly as it seemed given that they'd gone much farther already, building it all up piece by piece was appealing in its own right, a series of choices Jameson would make again and again. "Now, is there anything else you want that I can help you with?"
For once, Jameson didn't have to strain himself to come up with answers. More time in his new home was one, continuing to explore new places was another. Time with William was an essential one, as was being able to destroy the rest of the regulars that had plagued Jameson for so many years. Their blood would run through his hands, as would the blood of anyone else that he needed to eliminate to help with making the world a better place. Those answers were clear in his mind, and one day he'd put them all into words, both for himself and for William to know and help out with. But for the moment, Jameson had but one request he considered to be most important of all.
"Right now," he said, reaching down to take William's hand in his own, "I think I'd like to lie down with you and get some rest."
"Very well," William said, bringing Jameson's hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. "If that's what you want, Jameson, I believe can make that happen."
[Author's Notes]
And we made it through season one! This chapter really be bringing out the "be gay do crime" vibes, but that's honestly what I wanted from this fic, so here you go.
If I were a rational person, this would be enough for pre-canon, but nope! I have a giant multi arc pre-canon plot, so we're gonna work our way through that as we go kill some other shitty abusive nobles and have Jameson adjust to life with the Moriartys and we're gonna have a grand old time (Holy shit, y'all, this fic was meant to be a one shot how did I end up with this monster on my hands)!
But as mentioned, this is the first season, and thus the end of [Shibuya Operation - Story Storm] 2022-2023! It was a slower season with just me and Noiz in the forums and a few members working on projects in the Discord, but the Sauce crew are all great, and you should check out the forum for more cool fanfics. We've been at this since 2014, so we've got quite the archive in the [104 Building].
As of this current posting, I'm working on the last chapter of season two! Between all sorts of other creative projects cropping up, I didn't get to wrap up that arc as soon as I would've wanted, but I'm going all in now! My goal is to be able to get it ready to go so I can post the first chapter of season two on William's "birthday" since it falls on a Saturday this year! So hopefully I'll see you then! Next month is looking to be miscellaneous updates of stuff in the queue, so hopefully you'll see something to enjoy if you follow me in general.
Title of the chapter is from Halsey's "Lilith."
Next time: Moriarty Manor Daily Life, Act One. Please look forward to it!
-Avi
[02.25.2022]