Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1577342.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Moran/Jim_Moriarty, Richard_Brook/Severin_Moran, Richard_Brook/
      Jim_Moriarty
  Character:
      Sebastian_Moran, Jim_Moriarty, Richard_Brook, Severin_Moran
  Additional Tags:
      these_are_old_and_i_don't_want_to_lose_them_so_i'm_posting_them_here, i
      don't_agree_with_all_of_the_dynamics_that_i_wrote, like_the_more_dom!seb,
      but_i_still_wanna_have_it, poor_richie, Jim's_a_sick_fuck
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-06 Chapters: 10/? Words: 5883
****** Drabbles and shit ******
by Phantomsforever
Summary
     These are old drabbles that I wanted to have compiled in one place.
     If you want the better written stuff, go to the end...
Notes
     Prompt for edgeplay/knife play. Older Sebastian, teenager Jim.
     Written Oct 2012
***** Edge/Knife Play *****
Jim is bound and naked, hands tied tightly behind his back, cock leaking
against the cement floor, precome pooling at his knees. There’s no leeway in
the rope and Jim knows it’s futile to struggle against it. That’s part of the
allure. Knowing he’s finally given up control to the one man who could take it
from him. Sebastian steps behind him and Jim can feel the cool whisper of the
sniper’s breath.
"You know why I’m doing this, don’t you, boy?" He’s not Jim; he’s boy, slut,
whore, toy.
"Y—yes, Sir," Jim stutters, keeping his head bowed, and his limbs still, taking
his punishment as stoically as possible. Even though he know’s what’s coming,
he shivers slightly as the blade traces up and down his spine.
"Then you’re going to be my good little whore while I carve you up nice and
pretty. Maybe next time you won’t. Play. With. Your. Life." Sebastian
punctuates each word with a dig of the knife into the sensitive skin of Jim’s
shoulder. The criminal can feel the blood seeping down his back, pooling at the
lower curve of his spine, before dipping between his crack and onto his balls.
"You. Should. Know. Better," Sebastian growls as he makes the final cut and
shoves his fingernail along the new forming wounds. Jim knows what it says
before Sebastian’s finished and he tenses as the larger man circles in front of
him and kneels. "You won’t do that again, now will you?"
"No, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Jim whimpers, eyes rising to meet Sebastian’s. The lust
blown pupils of the sniper meet his own black eyes.
"That’s right, boy, because you’re mine.
***** Lingerie *****
Chapter Notes
     Written Oct 2012, prompt was this picture http://25.media.tumblr.com/
     tumblr_m45kvsvBqi1qgk2bfo1_500.png
The door slammed behind Sebastian and he set his kit bag against the frame. For
once, he simply couldn’t be arsed to put it in its proper place. His
assignment, if one could call it that, hadn’t been as…detailed as he’d hoped.
Jim had left out a few crucial points. Like the fact that there were two,
armed, targets, instead of the one, unarmed, civilian he’d been briefed on. Jim
was going to have a hard night.
"Jim, I’m home," he called as he walked down the slim hallway to their bedroom,
even though the criminal was undoubtedly aware that he was already home. He
shed his jacked on the way, muscles rippling against his standard black v-neck.
The type he always wore for assassinations. "I know what you did to me, you
little fu—-holy shit." Sebastian balked, freezing in the door frame.
On the bed, instead of the perfectly made comforter, and the pristine pillows,
lies a rather unclothed Jim. He was clad only in thigh-high, black lace tights
and heels, knees pulled under him. The black lingerie made his pale skin almost
glow. His half hard cock was peeking from above the top of the satin panties, a
small drop of precome darkening the material. And the man had the audacity to
smirk. ”Mmm, hi, Sebby.”
"Wh—what the—-sodding hell—God, Jim,” Sebastian stuttered, words jumbling in
his throat as he tried to make sense of the sight in front of him.
"You do know how I love it when you forsake your Catholic upbringing, Seb, but
if you would be so kind as to fuck me…" The command is evident in Jim’s voice,
even though Sebastian has every advantage.
"You—you little prick. You knewwhat I was being sent in to, didn’t you? You
just wanted a hard fuck.” Sebastian finally regained the use of his limbs and
he sauntered into the room. “Be careful what you wish for, boss.” "You know me
better than that, Sebastian. I have no regrets.” "We’ll see about that…" —-
***** Kitten Nickname *****
Chapter Notes
     Written Oct 2012, prompt was Kitten as a supposed nickname for Jim.
“Make some tea, would you, kitten?” Sebastian calls as he stretches out on the
sofa. Re-runs of Monty Python’s Flying Circus are playing on the telly, but
it’s only background noise. Sebastian’s seen them all a hundred times.
He hears the stomping of a very angry consulting criminal reach the back of the
sofa and smirks. He knew Jim wouldn’t be pleased with the name “What, you don’t
like the nickname, my little meow meow?” Sebastian couldn’t be more
condescending in his tone or in his posture.
“Sod off, Moran,” Jim growls as he flings himself over the back of the couch
and onto Sebastian’s healing leg.
“Oof,” Sebastian groans, “Perhaps I should call you Cheshire instead of kitten,
you brute.”
“You know very well how much I despise nicknames, and you’d do well to remember
it.”
“You only despise them if you’re not using them on me.”
“And?”
“Aww, look at the kitten getting all riled up. S’cute, really, it is.”
Sebastian barely has time to get the words out of his mouth before Jim is on
top of him, asserting his dominance by shoving his tongue down Sebastian’s
throat. The sniper pulls back. “Did I hurt the widdle kitten’s fweelings?” he
mocks, “Does the widdle baby need a time out?”
“Fuck. Off. Moran,” Jim screeches as he lunges in for another attack. Their
teeth clash and Sebastian fights Jim for control of the kiss, forcing his
tongue in where Jim’s is attempting to reach. When the sniper finally gains
dominance, Jim pulls back, cheeks flushed and a smirk on his pale face.
“If you’re not quiet, this will hurt,” Jim warns, dropping to his knees and
pulling Sebastian’s legs over the edge of the couch. He palms at the sniper’s
bulge and pulls the sweat pants down over Sebastian’s erection. Seb’s cock is
straining against the cotton and Jim wastes little time in freeing it, and even
less in taking it into his mouth. There’s no teasing, no foreplay, just Jim’s
mouth on Sebastian’s cock, hand gripped tightly around the base, pulling up and
twisting each time Jim’s tongue swirls around the tip. This is about Jim
showing Sebastian he has complete control over him, can take what he wants, not
about Sebastian’s pleasure. He pumps his head down a few times and he can feel
that Sebastian is about to climax, and he lets him, grinning wickedly as the
come spills down his throat and out the corners of his mouth. Sebastian is limp
against the back of the couch, muscles relaxed and body slumped. Jim raises an
eyebrow as his only response, showing Sebastian just how much prowess he truly
has.
A similar grin curls at the edge of Sebastian’s as he stares down at the
criminal. “Want me to get you a saucer next time, kitten?”
***** Man I don't even know, Sub!Sebastian? *****
Chapter Notes
     Written Oct 2012, prompt was this pic: http://media.tumblr.com/
     tumblr_mcby32yfHS1qatj5g.jpg
The cold metal digs into the soft skin of Sebastian’s wrists as Jim fastens the
leash. Sebastian’s cheeks color in response; he’s never been so humiliated in
his life.
“Come along, pet,” Jim drawls, tugging lightly on the chain.
Sebastian has no choice but to follow, to crawl forward on his knees towards
the man who is both his salvation and his destruction. The carpet digs into his
skin, and he knows, without looking that the skin covering his knees caps is
rubbed raw and red, Jim wouldn’t have it any other way. The criminal leads him
about the flat, parading him in front of the windows and Sebastian can only
hope that no one is watching. He hopes to maintain some semblance of his
dignity, but today is not his lucky day.
Jim stops him in front of the window, and says, “Paws up, tiger.” Sebastian
hesitates and receives a firm slap on the arse, only a warning. “Now.”
Seb slowly steps through the restraints and places his palms flat against the
window. Jim becomes impatient and slams his entire body against the cool glass.
He can feel his naked skin tingling with both embarrassment and arousal as Jim
threads his fingers around Sebastian’s neck.
“You disobeyed me, Moran. That is unacceptable. Be grateful that you are my
second in command, for I would not be this kind to any other of my
subordinates.”
Sebastian doesn’t respond; it’s not his place.
“And now, all of London will see you splayed open for me, moaning my name as I
use you for my pleasure. But you like that, don’t you, Moran? The loss of
control, the voyeurism.” Jim’s nails run down Sebastian’s back, leaving angry
welts in their path, and stop at his arsehole. The slick finger teases at his
entrance and roughly pushes inside. Sebastian gasps at the sudden breach, but
fights to remain still. He can’t show any signs of weakness.
“Oh, tiger, so tight for me. You want this, oh I can tell.” He works his finger
in and out and gradually inserts two, then three, and then Sebastian has lost
count of the fingers in his arse as he bucks backwards and rocks forwards for
the needed friction. Jim chuckles when Sebastian moans as they withdraw. The
fingers are soon replaced with Jim’s not insubstantial cock and Sebastian is
coming undone beneath his boss.
“Sir—“ he groans, unsure of if it’s a question, a plea, a statement, but Jim
understands, always understands.
“Stop rocking against the window. Don’t move, or I won’t let you come,” Jim
pants between thrusts.
Through sheer force of will, Sebastian stills his hips and lets Jim use his
body for his own pleasure. The criminal continues pounding into him for what
seems like hours, and it may very well have been hours. Sebastian focuses on
remaining still and on holding back his climax, when Jim’s thrusts become
shallower and more frantic and then the criminal is coming, finally relaxed
against the sniper.
“Sir, please,” Sebastian begs as he feels Jim slip out.
“Not today, Sebastian. You need to learn your lesson, and I still don’t think
you have.” Jim pulls on the chain and Sebastian is forced to kneel at Jim’s
feet, wrists still shackled, naked and dirty and used, until Jim becomes bored.
***** Drunk *****
Chapter Notes
     Written Oct 2012, prompt was wall sex
"Boss, m’drunk, m’reaaaally drunk," Sebastian slurs when Jim finally answer the
phone. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the bar, but it’s been long
enough, and Sebastian can hold his booze.
"Sodding hell, Seb. How much have you had to drink?" Jim is by far, not
pleased.
"Dunno. There were lots a shots. Hehe, that rhymes. Lotsashots. Lotsashots—"
Jim cuts him off. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”
"Pub ‘cross from Conduit flat. M’in a bit of a tight spot."
"Don’t you fucking move, Moran. I’m on my way." Jim slams his finger on the end
button and throws his phone against the wall, relishing in the resounding crack
that he hears. It’s not the first phone he’s broken, nor will it be the last.
He gathers his keys and makes the short walk in the cold to the pub. He’s
freezing by the time the warm light of the decrepit pub hits his face. Walking
inside, it’s easy to spot his sniper.
In the corner, surrounded by a group of what might very well be the mafia,
Sebastian is attempting to play poker. Attempting being the operative word. The
drunker Sebastian gets, the more money he loses. When he’s sober, he’s the best
in the city, even able to beat Jim on occasion. But now, with who knows how
much whiskey in his system, his reflexes are slower, and he can’t concentrate
on the cards.
Sebastian has the foresight to grimace when he sees Jim walk into the bar and
ducks his head, not making eye contact with his boss.
Moriarty walks up to the group and whispers solemn words into the largest mafia
member’s ear. Sebastian watches as the man’s face turns stark white, and then
Jim pulls him away and out into the cold night.
"You do realise that actions such as this cannot go unpunished, Moran?" It’s
not a question, as both Jim’s eyes and voice darken.
Sebastian sobers minutely, enough to understand that he is not going to enjoy
the next few minutes, hours, days, however long Jim decides to punish him.
Somehow they end up in the alleyway behind the bar and Sebastian is against the
wall. His shirt is hiked up against his skin, and he can feel the harsh grating
of the brick into his back even as it is dulled by the alcohol. Small droplets
of blood form and he knows he won’t be able to sleep on his back for days
without wincing. There is a darkness to Jim that fills the smaller man with
lust.
"You are going to remember my rules, Moran. If you drink, no calling me, and do
NOT get yourself into situations that you cannot get out of." Jim’s hand is
down the front of Sebastian’s trousers and he’s pushing the jeans over
Sebastian’s growing bulge, until they’re down around his ankles. Without a
warning, he flips the larger man around, and whispers into his ear, "You are
mine, and I will not clean your mistakes again."
Then, Jim’s cock is out and he’s on his toes, pushing into Sebastian without
warning. Sebastian groans in protest, but he’s far above screaming in pain,
even though he wants to. He remains as still as possible, not letting Jim have
the satisfaction of seeing him whimper. “You are my employee, Sebastian, and I
will not have you hurting the empire with your little excursions.” Sebastian
grunts, trying not to rock back against Jim’s prick. “You. Will. Learn.” He
punctuates each dark word with a deep thrust. Jim’s breathing becomes harder
and Sebastian can tell he’s close. The sniper just wants it to be over because
he won’t get satisfaction, regardless of how long he’s been fucked. Jim’ll see
to that.
Jim comes silently into his fuck toy and Sebastian collapses against the wall,
not even close. Within seconds, Jim’s tucked himself back into his pants,
pulled up his zip and he’s composed. “Come, Moran.” Sebastian’s still leaning
against the wall, unable to move. “Now.” Mustering the last of his strength,
Sebastian follows his boss. He always follows his boss.
***** Denial/Release *****
Chapter Notes
     Written Oct 2012. I don't really know how I feel about this sub!Jim
     looking back on it now, but it's still kinda hot?
The sound of the door to their flat signaled to Jim that he was in for a rough
night. He knew it before, knew how angry Sebastian would be that he had, once
again, risked his life for the game. That was the one rule. Jim was allowed to
do what he liked, but he had to tell Sebastian and let the sniper be present,
if necessary. Jim never really liked rules. From his place in the bedroom, Jim
heard the kit bag hit the floor and the angry steps of his soon tormentor
stomping down the hall and into the room.
The sight that greeted Jim was ragged; Sebastian had had a hard day and that
would not make the next few hours for Jim any easier. There was blood covering
the sniper, his shirt had a long gash down the front of it, and his trousers
were ruined. Jim could feel Sebastian’s glare as the older man walked to take a
shower. He was going to prolong Jim’s torment as much as possible, leaving the
criminal shaking with anticipation.
Jim waited as the shower heated up and he didn’t move. He stayed stock still,
knowing that even the slightest movement on his part would be noticed by
Sebastian. He focused on the feeling of the silk sheets against his arms,
counting each individual thread to pass the excruciating moments. Sebastian was
taking his time, drawing out the punishment, so that Jim would be writhing
before Sebastian’s hands even touched him.
The sniper stepped out of the bathroom and toweled off his hair. He had clean
clothes on; black jeans, tight black tank top, black combat boots. Jim’s breath
hitched at the sight of Sebastian.
“Strip.”
The command was evident and Jim almost jumped to do as he was told. In this
situation, Moran was the boss, and he did not tolerate hesitance. Jim, though,
enjoyed pushing Sebastian to his limits and smirked as he stripped seductively,
hands lingering over his body. A touch to his mouth, a flick over his nipple, a
brush against his hardening cock. Sebastian took it all in, eyes hungrily
roaming the criminal’s naked flesh. Finally finished, he stood straight in
front of Sebastian, a challenging glare forming on his face. Moran’s was
stronger, harsher.
“You should know by now, that I do not allow you to hurt yourself.”
“I didn’t, Seb. I’m completely fine.” There was a hint of defiance in Jim’s
voice.
“You didn’t me about the sodding job. You could have died.” His words were
clean and punctuated. There was no extraneous emotion in Sebastian’s voice,
only the harsh tone one might use when punishing a dog, an animal.
“It was an easy job, I deemed you unnecessary, superfluous. You had better
things to be doing, Moran.” More than a hint, now.
“There is nothing more important than protecting you.”
“I hadn’t realised you’d gone soft, Sebby, dear,” Jim said, voice dipping and
lifting like a song.
Sebastian growled in response and shoved the naked, vulnerable man backwards,
onto the bed. Jim flopped onto his back and huffed, raising an eyebrow, “Awww,
that’s cute, Sebastian, really cute.”
“Shut up and fuck off, Moriarty,” the sniper snarled, slowly pulling his belt
out of the loops. Jim’s eyes widened at the sight of the black, soft leather
against the rough, calloused hand. Sebastian smirked. “You know what’s coming,
don’t you, you little slut? Turn over and god help me if you speak one word…”
Jim slowly turned over, relishing in the little defiance he still maintained
over Sebastian. He shoved his arse into the air, legs dangling over the side of
the bed as he wriggled his bum enticingly. “Are you going to punish me, Sebby?”
he smirked into the sheets.
The first lash came across his cheeks and stung, but Jim remained silent. “What
did I say about talking?” A second and third followed easily, slapping each
cheek in turn. “You are going to learn, James, that you are not allowed to put
yourself in danger.”
Jim only whimpered in response as blows five, six, and seven landed on each
thigh and then across both, respectively. Sebastian wasn’t holding back, and
blows eight, nine, and ten, landed on top of the previous ones to Jim’s arse.
The pale skin blossomed with a pinkish color and little spots of blood were
forming as Sebastian tossed the belt aside. “Now, have you learned your
lesson?” he asked and he leaned over Jim’s prone body, mouth to Jim’s ear.
“S—Sebby, you’re so sentimental, aren’t you? S—s’a weakness, y’know?” his voice
was slurred a bit with pain, but Sebastian still heard the derision. Sebastian
didn’t respond, verbally, anyway. He placed his calloused hand on the hot skin
and ran it over Jim’s pink skin, feeling the beaten skin catch with his every
movement. Jim tried to pull away, but Sebastian was bigger, stronger, and held
the smaller man down.
“Looks like you are still a little shit,” Sebastian rumbled, voice deep with
lust and something else. Seeing Jim spread and wanton beneath him brought out a
little voice in the sniper’s head, telling him to push Jim to the edge, see how
far he could take the criminal. He had to hold it back, or Jim would end up
dead, because the arrogant fuck would never use his safeword, regardless of the
necessity. Jim thought he could take anything.
Without preamble, Sebastian flipped Jim over, and pushed down his own jeans and
pants, managing to get them over the boots. Throwing Jim down onto his knees,
he said, “Suck.”
Jim nuzzled his face against Sebastian’s not inconsiderable length and took it
wholly into his mouth. But, he wasn’t moving fast enough for Seb, and the
larger man’s hand was on the back of Jim’s head, pushing him down, making him
take the entire length. Once Jim managed to swallow around him once, Seb pulled
out and shoved back in, watching attentively as small tears formed at the edge
of Jim’s eyes. Sebastian held himself there as Jim tried to force out a
“Please, Seb.” It only came out as a muffled moan.
“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it, whore.” Sebastian pulled out and rubbed
his dripping cock against the side of Jim’s face. The little criminal leaned
into the touch. “Like I said, you want it. You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
“Mm, yespleaseSeb,” Jim begged, arching his back up and trying to get friction,
anything against his aching cock.
“Hmm,” Sebastian mused, stretching his shoulders and neck, “I don’t think you
deserve that. You still don’t know not to risk your life.”
“YesSeb. YesIdo. Norisklife. Importantlife,” Jim said, words mangled together
with need.
“No, no I don’t think you do.” A glint arose in Sebastian’s eye as an idea
formed. “Get on the bed, legs spread, hands gripping the headboard.”
Jim, finally reduced to following orders without a second thought, scrambled to
do as he was told, hoping he’d finally get release. As Jim moved, Sebastian
brought The Box out from under the bed and pulled out a thin piece of black
metal, cuffs attached to each end. A spreader. Jim’s breath hitched at the toy.
Seb grinned maliciously and began fastening it to Jim’s legs, ensuring the
small man didn’t receive any extra touch from either Seb or himself. The final
clink of the second cuff sent a shiver down Jim’s back. “YespleaseSeb,” he
moaned.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, boy.” Sebastian pulled out a second bar and a
pair of handcuffs. He fastened one cuff to the bar and the other to the
headboard. Jim’s wrists finally secure in the cuffs, Sebastian admired his
handiwork. “Hmmm, you’re all nice and spread for me, waiting for my touch.” He
dragged a finger against Jim’s leaking cock. “You want it, but you’ll have to
wait, won’t you?” he asked, as he pulled out one final toy. A cock ring.
Gently, he slipped it over Jim and grinned. “Don’t move, or…” He didn’t need to
finish the threat.
Sebastian slipped out of the room and went to put the kettle on. He’d had a
long day, after all. He could hear Jim’s pleas from the bedroom and the soft
moaning of the younger man brought a smile to the sniper’s scarred face. Maybe
he’d finally realize that he wasn’t allowed to hurt himself. Maybe. Probably
not. Little prick was obstinate as fuck. In a way, Seb didn’t want him to,
because then, this, all of this dominance and punishment, would be over. Well,
the criminal would always do things to piss Sebastian off. Tea doused down the
back of his throat and cigarette butt discarded, Sebastian sauntered back to
the room.
“Have you learned your lesson, Jim?” he asked; the sight of the poor man spread
and hard on the bed causing his cock to stir again.
“Yes, Sir. Pleasefuckmesir.”
“OoOo,” Seb sang, voice a mimicry of Jim’s earlier song, “You do want it.
Alright, but this isn’t going to be easy.”
Sebastian flicked the release on the handcuffs, but left the bars on. He
flipped Jim over with a swift motion, hand already covered. No warning and two
fingers were already up Jim’s arse, scissoring him and pulling him apart. Jim
felt like he was going to burst. “PleaseSebnow.”
“Patience is a virtue, Jimmy,” Sebastian recited, as he slipped a third in.
Deeming Jim ready enough, he gave his own prick a few firm strokes, lined up,
and pushed in, all the way to the base of his cock. His coarse hair was rubbing
against the little scabs that formed on Jim’s arse, pulling some of them off
and causing the criminal to bleed. Sebastian didn’t care. This wasn’t about
Jim’s pleasure. This was about showing the man that he was not allowed to die,
that he was Sebastian’s.
Whether Jim was crying out with pain or pleasure, Sebastian was unsure, and it
didn’t matter as Seb thrust in once, twice, three more times, rolling his hips
with the last and coming into the little man’s hole. He pulled out quickly and
watched as his come dripped down Jim’s thighs. A finger dipped into the viscous
liquid and shoved into Jim’s mouth. “Lick.” Was the only command given. Jim’s
tongue darted around Seb’s finger, lapping up the come like it was the last
thing he’d ever eat.
Once his finger was clean, Sebastian pulled it out and looked at Jim’s still
painfully erect cock. “You wanna come?” he asked, voice deceptively sweet.
Jim only moaned in response.
“Hmm. I don’t think you’re quite ready for that privilege,” he said, standing
and then settling into the chair across from the bed and flicking on the telly.
“And besides, Flying Circus is on, can’t miss that, now can we?”
“Wanker. Fucker. Prick. Bastard,” Jim growled as he came back into himself.
“Mmm, yes. Now shut up and watch the show.”
***** Irene *****
Chapter Notes
     Written Dec 2012 for prompt with Irene. I may someday continue this
     because it could be good?
“I’m not going to see that bitch with you, and you can’t make me,” Sebastian
moaned, collapsing onto the couch in a fit of self-pity.
“It is your job, Sebastian. Stop sounding like a petulant child,” Jim said,
sipping his tea at the kitchen counter.
Sebastian turned over, and in a sulk worthy of James Moriarty himself, let out
the longest and most arduous sigh heard since Sebastian’d told Jim they weren’t
getting a tiger for the flat, regardless of how much it reminded him of
Sebastian. “No,” he mumbled, but his resolve was crumbing. He honestly didn’t
have a choice in the matter and arguing with Jim would only prolong his
torment.
Jim smirked, knowing he’d won the battle (as if that was ever in question), and
said, “We’re leaving in fifteen. Haul that gorgeous arse of yours off the couch
and look presentable, at least.”
“Won’t do any good for her,” Sebastian complained, but he did as he was told,
patting down his hair and brushing off his t-shirt. “Acceptable, your majesty?”
“Fit for a king.” Jim took a last swig of tea and straightened his suit jacket
as he stood. “Although, you could wear something besides jeans.”
“We’re not meeting a client, so it’s casual. No suits on Sundays.”
Jim rolled his eyes as Sebastian gave a long suffering sigh and followed his
boss out the door.
**
“Irene, darling,” Jim greeted, exuding every bit of charm he had on the woman,
not that he needed to, but it’d piss Sebastian off and put the man in his
place.
“Jim, dear, it’s been far too long,” she smiled, wrapping an arm around his
waist and kissing his cheeks in greeting.
Sebastian was fuming behind his boss, jaw clenched, hand a centimetre from his
SIG. “Irene,” he said tightly, once their little show was finished and the two
almost-lovers stepped back.
“Sebastian,” she returned, charming as she’d been with Jim, but there was a
devilish hint behind her eyes. She was planning something and Sebastian would
be damned if he let her get to Jim. Jim was his.
“How’s the professional whoring coming?” he asked, menacing grin quick on his
face.
“Moran,” Jim warned, “Mind your tongue.” He turned to Irene. “Tiger’s been
prickly ever since we left the flat. Must have given him too much catnip this
morning.”
Sebastian knew Jim was winding him up, knew the little bastard liked to play
with his toys, or whatever he was calling them these days, and yet, he couldn’t
resist the bile that rose in his throat. Irene. Fucking bitch was looking at
Jim the way only he was allowed to. They were both putting on a show for the
sniper, and he knew it. He bloody well realised that he was the third wheel and
that Jim had only brought him along to teach him a lesson. Fucking prick. “Need
a smoke,” he grunted.
“Not in here, Sebby. And you’re not to leave until we do,” Jim smiled sweetly
up at him. “Sit.”
Sebastian did as he was told and was subject to the most inane conversation he
thought Jim had ever held. They talked about nothing. He couldn’t have told you
one of the topics that they rambled about when they were finally finished.
“…so, that’s a yes, Sebastian?” Jim asked, as they were ending their little
show.
Sebastian snapped back into the present. “Er…yeah, sorry boss. Yes.”
Jim smirked a knowing smile. “Perfect.”
“Perfect,” Irene repeated, mirroring Jim.
Sebastian looked at them both in turn, eyes flitting from one smug face to the
other. “Wait, the fuck did I agree to?”
“Oh, ‘Bastian, you should know better than to agree without knowing…”
“Fuck.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing, Tiger. Ms. Adler’s agreed to help
with your, shall we say, training.”
“Fuck.”
Irene grinned.
***** Foreign *****
Chapter Notes
     Written April 2014. Prompt: Foreign
The cold wind was odd for July in Dublin, but Richard hardly felt it as he
meandered through the park, alone, with only his shadow for company. It trailed
behind him as a small dog might, but without the lively presence. Rich needed
get away from Jim and Sebastian. Bastian, at least, had been hovering for days
and Rich couldn’t take it anymore. He had to see Severin. His lion.
The park was mostly empty this late in the afternoon as Richard slowly made his
way to his final destination. The flowers he held were drooping slightly but it
didn’t matter. Severin wouldn’t care. Severin couldn’t care.
His fingers brushed the cool granite as he laid the flowers across the grass.
It was cold and uninviting. Nothing like Severin; always warm and lively and
cracking a joke. Richard almost smiled to himself, remembering how Sev had
always loved creeping around graveyards, making fun of the old fashioned names.
"Bunny! Ha, come look at this chick’s name. It’s literally Yowanna Screw."
“C’mon Sev! We shouldn’t make fun of them; be respectful!”
"S’not my fault her name is just begging for it."
"SEV!"
"Alright, alright."
Coming back from the memory was worse than before. Rich’s head hit the black
stone as he crumbled, trying to pull some warmth from the rock. It wasn’t
Severin. He wasn’t ever coming home.
"Please, lion, come back. Everything’s weird and foreign without you."
The chilled granite was stoic and quiet as ever.
***** Obsession *****
Chapter Notes
     Written April 2014. Prompt: Obsession
     First person POV from Sebastian
He’d been holed up in that dark cupboard for days. I don’t think I’ve ever seen
him that focused. Even with Holmes, he’d occasionally eat, but now, I’m quite
sure he’s not had even water in at least 48 hours. I still don’t know how the
bastard works like that. In uni, I had to have snack breaks all the fucking
time just to focus on writing at 10 page paper. I should check on him. Bring
him some toast, at least.
"Jim?" My voice is hushed, lips against the door, if he’s sleeping, I don’t
want to wake him.
"Leave it, Moran. I’m working. You know you’re not allowed in." His voice is
angry, but distracted. The words float out quietly, but I don’t listen. I know
I’ll be punished, but that idiot has to eat.
"You need food, boss. It’s been days." I’m stern but not demanding, demanding
never works when he’s in this state. I learned that the hard way.
"Fine, leave it outside the door."
That’s the most acquiescence I’ve ever gotten outta him, so I softly place the
sandwich and water next to the wall and hope to fuck he actually eats it. That
night, as I’m heading to bed, there some fucking weird noises coming from that
room. Not grunts, but a mixture of sighs and moans and I’d half a mind to make
sure he wasn’t being murdered. But noone, not even the second most dangerous
man in London, could get into that room without Moriarty’s express permission.
Which he never grants. Ever. Fucker.
"Wa—" I mumble, woken up by what feels like a large dog bouncing on the bed.
"I knew I could solve it. Those idiots at the university couldn’t tell an
Riemann sum from a Gauss sum."
"Huh?" I was smart, but Moriarty’s mind was a palace.
"The Brumer-Stark conjecture, Sebastian. Truly, I thought your mind was more
astute than that." He sounded huffy since I wasn’t nearly as excited as he was,
regardless of the fact that I had a small crazy-eyed Irishman on my chest at 4
AM.
"Yeah, yeah, great, can you get some sleep now?"
"Now that you say it…" he yawned rather largely, "…I am a little…" He dozed off
fucking mid-sentence. I shifted slightly so that I could breathe, and pushed
him into the inside of the bed.
"You little intelligent shit."
***** Training *****
Chapter Notes
     Written April 2014. Prompt: Keeping a secret with Severin Moran and
     Jim Moriarty
Blood was pounding in his ears so excruciatingly loud that he barely heard the
question. “Sir?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
Jim laughed. A dark laugh that certainly wasn’t conveying happiness. “I said,
secrets, secrets, are no fun unless they’re shared with everyone,” he giggled,
pulling back his flogger to land several sharp hits across Severin’s sensitive
sides. They pulled blood to the surface and hit in just the right place to
avoid major organs, but cause the most pain possible.
Severin was dangling from the ceiling, in a familiar position, naked from the
waist up. All of the assets had been through this ordeal, as Jim liked to call
it, and this was Severin’s yearly check.
"No," Severin managed to wince out, blood slowly dripping from the new cuts on
his side. He could see the trails of red sliding down and hitting the top of
his boxers, soaking them and bleeding through to his jeans. He had no idea how
long he’d been hanging; it didn’t matter. The test wouldn’t be over until
Moriarty was finished.
"C’mon, lion, just tell me?" Jim purred into Sev’s ear. "Then this will all be
over, you know. It’s just one little word."
Severin grimaced at the pet name, but didn’t say anything, just braced himself
for the pain he knew was coming. Jim now had the whip in his hand and pulled
back for four quick strikes along Severin’s back. The agonizing pain spread
through his spine and he wanted to scream, but couldn’t give Moriarty the
satisfaction of pulling that from him. So he just grunted and maintained his
silence.
"Oh, lion, you’re doing so well, would you like to be let down? Perhaps put in
a cage for the night until your trainer can come back in the morning and break
you?" Jim’s light lilt carried through the room and Severin honestly didn’t
care what Jim did to him; it’d be over soon enough and he’d be back with
Richard to take care of him.
"Cage me sir, like the animal I am," the words passed through his lips before
he knew what he was saying. A smile spread across the smaller man’s face.
"I knew you’d break. You always do. Earlier than Sebastian this year. Guess
you’ll have to toughen up. Next year will be harder," Jim cooed as he made
quick work of the rope holding Severin up and laid him, almost tenderly, into
the nearby seat. Sebastian appeared and half-helped, half-carried Severin up
the stairs to his room where Richard was waiting.
"Oh my lion, what has he done to you?"
Severin winced at the name.
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