Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/631386.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Moran/Jim_Moriarty
  Character:
      Sebastian_Moran, Jim_Moriarty
  Additional Tags:
      Pedophilia, Rape, Non_Consensual, Child_Abuse, pedo!Seb, age_gap,
      Manipulation
  Series:
      Part 1 of Cold_Hands
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-09 Words: 1729
****** For Cold Hands and Rainy Days ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     “What’s your name, kid?” Sebastian asked. The boy shrugged.
     “Uh… Mason,” he replied easily, tendrils of smoke dripping from his
     mouth. Sebastian wanted to lean down and breath them in, breath the
     boy in. Swallow him up and never let him out.
     “Your real name,” Sebastian hissed.
     “Jim,” he replied with a sly smile.
He couldn’t have been older than fourteen, chain smoking cigarettes in the
park. He was gorgeous too, raven hair and beautifully pale skin and a thin
little body that looked like it would perfectly break under Sebastian’s hands.
Sebastian strolled up casually and sat down to the boy.
“Have a fag to spare?” he asked. The boy looked at him wearily and blew smoke
in his face. He opened the pack next to him and handed Sebastian a cigarette.
“You’re buying me another pack,” he muttered. “I’m not lighting it for you.”
Sebastian laughed and pulled a box of matches from his pocket. He lit the match
on the side and lit the cigarette, taking a blissful drag against the
cigarette, his eyes fluttering closed a moment.
“What’s your name, kid?” Sebastian asked. The boy shrugged.
“Uh… Mason,” he replied easily, tendrils of smoke dripping from his mouth.
Sebastian wanted to lean down and breath them in, breath the boy in. Swallow
him up and never let him out.
“Your real name,” Sebastian hissed.
“Jim,” he replied with a sly smile.
Sebastian nodded and took a drag of the cigarette before replying. “Well, I’m
Sebastian.”
“Sebastian,” the little Irish boy drawled. “Sebastian. Nice name, mate.”
Sebastian grinned and laughed out smoke. “Whatcha doing here all alone?”
Jim shrugged, moving to stand. Sebastian followed. He started walking down the
path, dropping his cigarette butt in a tray. “Getting away from da. Doesn’t
know how to keep his hands to himself. You?” Jim was stepping out of the park,
back onto pavement and into the neighborhood.
“Just needed some air.”
Jim stopped to light another cigarette, the last one in his pack and turned to
glare at Sebastian, looking him up and down, then smirking. There were dark
circles under Jim’s eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days.
“There’s a corner store a few blocks down,” Jim drawled, kicking a rock and
stretching his arms out. “You’re buying me a new pack of cigarettes.”
Sebastian shrugged and nodded, knowing the store, it’d be the perfect place to
take him, the bathroom was wonderfully sound proof. The owner of the shop knew
what he did and didn’t seem to care.
They walked in the store and Jim leaned on the counter, eying the man behind
the counter strangely.
“Want something to eat?” Sebastian asked and Jim looked at him. “You look half
starved, do your parents even feed you?”
Jim bristled but didn’t say anything, just bit his lip and shook his head.
Sebastian laughed and started towards the back of the store, where the crisps
were kept and Jim followed, his head lowered.
Sebastian turned, suddenly, grabbing Jim by his shoulder and covering his mouth
with the other hand, looking around to make sure no one could hear the boy
yelling and pushing him the few steps backwards into the bathroom, kicking it
closed with his foot.
Jim was putting up a struggle, trying to bite his hand and pounding his fists
against Sebastian’s side, though the man barely felt it. Jim was weak and small
and Sebastian was used to them fighting.
He turned, then, flipping Jim over and pressing him to the wall with his hips.
Jim was screaming, the little shit and Sebastian was grinning, licking at Jim’s
neck and just tasting him while trying to frantically undo the button on his
trousers.
Jim was saying words which were swallowed up by his screaming. This one had a
lot of fight, usually they gave up by now, but he was still fighting.
“You fucking perv! Get off me, at least buy me dinner you fucking sicko!” Jim
screamed, finally landing a blow to Sebastian’s shin. He faltered slightly,
pain shooting up his leg, long enough for Jim to push his arms away and fall
onto the floor, crawling around Sebastian’s legs and heading for the door.
He stopped, though, a thought striking him.
“Buy me my fags and crips and I’ll fuck you,” he said, turning. “You need to
get me off on it, though.”
Sebastian just laughed at him, reaching out and grabbing hi again. Jim opened
his mouth and started screaming, high and shrill and Sebastian didn’t care, he
liked it when they put up a fight.
He had Jim pinned to the ground, his hands above his head and knee in the small
of his back. With his free hand Sebastian was pulling down his pants far enough
to get his cock out, then moving to pull Jim’s trousers down past his arse.
And what a lovely arse it was, pale and soft. A nice handful, too. Small. But
everything about this boy was small, ir wasn’t anything to complain about.
Well, he said his da couldn’t keep his hands to himself, he’d obviously done
this before. He was a bit bruised, probably from something with his da, he
really doubted this boy was getting into anything else that would bruise his
arse.
Sebastian pushed in slowly, not bothering with any prep, knowing Jim would tear
and bleed but he liked it that way.
He’d given up fighting now, was just staring blankly ahead as Sebastian pounded
into him, his mouth open slightly, drool spilling over his lips and onto the
dirty floor.
“You know how to take it, you slut,” Sebastian hissed in Jim’s ear before he
tensed up and came suddenly, letting out a low, breathy groan, falling down on
top of Jim.
An he was crying, the poor thing.
Well, not poor. Jim probably deserved it. Somehow. He’d done something before
and well. He was a boy.
Boys don’t get raped. That’s why Sebastian liked them so much.
Sebastian stood up, pulling his cock out of Jim’s tight hole, still tight,
despite the blood, the tearing.
He wet a few paper towels and wiped the blood off, tucking himself in his
trousers. Jim was still laying on the ground, sniffling quietly, his chest
shaking ith sobs. He tried to push himself to a sitting position but couldn’t
quite manage.
Sebastian moved to leave.
“No,” Jim hissed loudly, making it to his knees this time. “No, you’re not
fucking leaving.”
And something about the hatred in his voice made Sebastian want to stay.
He watched as Jim gingerly pulled up his trouser, his face contorted with pain,
blood staining the back of his jeans. He watched him crawl over to the sink and
drag himself to his feet, the bags under his eyes seemingly darker now.
His eyes being darker and his cheeks stained with tears.
“Next time, consider some fucking lube instead of my blood,” Jim hissed, trying
to take a step, a hand shooting out to the sink to support himself. “And listen
to me, you shit head. There is nothing right with what you’re doing. I don’t
fucking care how hard it is to get laid, you go out there and find some poor
fuck who wants to have sex with you or you sit in your room and wank and you
cry. You don’t rape boys who just wanted some cigarettes.”
Sebastian was finding this compelling and such a fucking turn on. How dark Jim
looked, despite his youth. How bitter he obviously was, how angry.
“You are fucking worthless,” Jim spat, lowering his gaze to the ground. “I’m
revolted.”
Sebastian had heard all sots of insults from the boys he took, but he’d never
been hurt by them.
“Do you need anything?” Sebastian mumbled, eyes on the ground, almost ashamed
at asking. He was very close to feeling sorry for this boy.
“My cigarettes and crisps. And a ride home. And… Did you like fucking me?
Obviously you got off on it.”
The question took Sebastian by surprise he nearly gave up on trying to be nice
because he didn’t want answer.
“I loved it,” he replied. “I want to steal you and keep you locked in my
basement and only take you out when it’s raining and too cold and I can’t feel
my hands.”
Jim laughed. “Quite poetic for a serial rapist, aren’t we?”
Sebastian didn’t answer. Jim stumbled the few steps towards him, leaning
heavily on his arm.
“Well, what if I agreed to be your fucktoy?”
Sebastian nearly started laughing at how obscene that sounded. Jim pouted,
looking taken aback.
“Well, let me put it a better way. You help me with a few things I can’t
legally do yet and buy me food and cigarettes and I’ll let you fuck me.”
“What sort of things?” Sebastian asked, leading Jim out of the bathroom,
watching him consider the packs of crisps before leaning unsteadily forward and
pick a bag. Sebastian took it and Let Jim wrap around his arm again.
“I want a gun. And… Uh,” he paused a moment, tongue caught between his lips as
he thought. “Cocaine. Some drugs to use on da. Poison. Beer, too. Ah… I think
that’s it.”
Sebastian nodded, paying for the fags and crisps, handing them both to Jim, who
was leaning on the counter, the pain not even showing on his face.
“And you’d fuck me whenever I wanted? That’s all I’d get?”
Jim laughed.
“No. Sebastian, I’ll pay you in money too, if you’d like. It’d be only a bit at
first, but I’m going places in the world.”
Sebastian nearly left him there, but he was so strange and sure of himself and,
well, it’d be great to have a regular, at least mostly consenting sexual
partner again and Sebastian had a job. It was a shit job and he hated it but it
paid the rent, a little moonlighting couldn’t hurt anyone. And getting a gun
for a minor was definitely not the worst thing he’s done.
—-
Sebastian carried Jim back to his car. Jim had lit up a cigarette and was
blowing smoke in Sebastian’s ear most of the way,
In the car he was afraid Jim was going to fall asleep. He didn’t know what he’d
do if that happened. He’d probably just take Jim and never let him go.
Keep him in the basement for when his hands were cold, like he’d said.
And it wasn’t until Jim was limping back into his house, Sebastian’s number and
address scrawled on his arm did he realize that maybe selling his time to a
deranged fourteen year old was a bad idea.
 
 
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