Negotiations
Jim’s teasing would have normally brought a half mutinous, half reluctant grin to Sebastian's face – now it rushed past him almost unnoticed, as did Jim’s imperceptible flinch and his intent scrutiny.
Jim sniffing his hand and looking somewhat put out at the notion he smelled (of anything but power and luxury) might have been amusing at other times, but right now... nothing was.
Sebastian nodded slowly and very, very cautiously in reply to the query. Yes, it was him. “But not you, I mean…” Sebastian’s sentence trailed off, while he tried to understand it himself. Not for a moment he had believed Jim to be severely injured. His senses were able to distinguish… The smell of blood from Jim’s lacerated and healing hands was like the heady, lively top note of a complex scent floating above … the horror underneath.
“Not one of ours, I hope…?” Sebastian dared to ask.
But even that possibility wasn’t what chilled him most.
Despite knowing he had some leeway with Jim, that – within limits – the man indulged him and made some allowances, maybe it was this close proximity to Jim Moriarty that didn’t let Sebastian ever forget how dangerous the man was. But that smell he’d brought with him drove it home once more, on the horribly visceral level of primal, primitive instinct. The sort that made animals baulk when driven towards the slaughterhouse, when the air, thick with the smell of death and fear and the blood of their predecessors hit their nostrils.
And for one frozen moment ‘There’s nothing you need to worry about’ was as convincing to Sebastian as it would be to them …
Just that Sebastian wasn’t one of them. Inside him something twitched and growled that would not go quietly. Something that had seen and done things not a lot less horrifying, something that found the smell of darkness and terror not just shocking and disconcerting, but also… exciting.
Sebastian found them staring at each other, and even to his sensitive ears it was so quiet you would have heard a leaf landing on the ground.
“I…” he cleared his throat and looked away, his heartbeat still thundering, but gradually, very gradually slowing down a bit. “I ordered a new kitchen. Well, not quite yet. Asked for an estimate.”
~
Jim curled his lips doubtfully. “One of ours yes, but no one you’d miss.”
That didn’t seem to bring a great deal of comfort, but there was a slight easing of tension around Seb’s eyes, which was better than nothing.
Jim nodded slowly as Sebastian brought the conversation around to a safer topic; what a good boy he’d been when Daddy was away. “Good,” Jim said mildly. “We can wrangle back some sort of normal routine once the kitchen’s functioning again.”
Jim scrutinised Seb carefully. The man seemed marginally calmer, but by no means actually calm.
“I left so you would be safe,” Jim said. The weight of the words felt peculiar on his tongue. “As long as you behave and keep out of my way when I… get like that… You should be okay. Strapping, big brute like you. You can take care of yourself. Nothing to worry about.”
Jim shifted his weight uneasily. “I left, and you’re fine. Same with the kitchen: I left and you were fine. Perfectly safe. No reason why I shouldn’t manage the same in future.”
Jim swallowed. “I don’t… have much practice. In… not lashing out. But I must be smart enough to learn. And besides, it would be a waste to break my tiger, right?”
Jim’s head snapped up and his neck pinkened. “Or - I mean - if it’s like the whiskey and you just don’t like the smell that’s… I can take these clothes off, or shower, or just give you space or-”
Jim paused and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. “Fuck sake. I call you spoiled but it comes from me, doesn’t it? I really have gotten into the habit of fussing over you.”
Jim took off his shirt, balled it up, and threw it towards the door.
He then strode towards the bed and snatched for Sebastian.
“Here’s how it is, my darling. It doesn’t fucking matter how you feel: if I lose my temper with you, it happens. Too fucking bad. You were the one stupid enough to work for me and open yourself to me, so you can pull on your big boy panties and accept the reality: I’m not a nice man and sometimes I’m going to lose my temper. Sometimes I’m probably going to hurt you when you don’t deserve it. Life’s not fair.”
Jim met Sebastian’s eyes. “You’re stuck with me now, and you won’t have much fun always wondering when I’m going to snap at you. So satisfy yourself that I don’t want to hurt you more than you can take, and get that look off of your face unless you want Daddy to give you something to cry about.”
~
The statement that Jim didn’t mean to break him beyond repair was more reassurance than Sebastian had been given until very recently, although no one, not even Jim himself, could promise that it wouldn’t happen anyway – life wasn’t fair and shit happened.
And yet, here Sebastian was - still alive, (mostly) unharmed, and in his bed for that matter.
He suppressed a snort at the implication that after living at very close quarters with a misanthropic, unpredictable madman for months, he’d be rattled by being snapped at.
He hadn’t entered Jim Moriarty’s service because his new employer was a nice man. He had done so for the thrill and because drifting through live without a real purpose would have taken him to the edge of putting a bullet through his own head rather sooner than later.
He had done so, because the day he had met Jim Moriarty he had met the only man worth serving. Because that day it had felt like the axis of the world beneath his feet shifted and every alternative … ceased to exist. Naively stumbling into something was the last thing that had happened that day, and they both knew it.
This time Sebastian didn’t turn his eyes away as they met Jim’s, and he calmly said:
“Now, there’s no need to be condescending.” And because you never told Jim Moriarty what was needed, he added: “Unless of course, it’s what you feel like, Sir.”
There was no irony in Sebastian’s voice. He was very aware that he received more than any other human on earth was graced with. Jim never explained his complex inner nature to anyone, let alone in order to give this person insight enough to keep themselves save. From him. Well… some sort of …reasonably safe.
But what touched Sebastian most, and in the strangest way, was Jim’s intent to learn himself, and adjust enough to prevent the worst.
“You do spoil me,” Sebastian agreed, and this time there was a smile ghosting over his face as Jim, sans shirt now, reached for him.
“And no, you don’t have to shower or change…” It was hard to explain. The olfactory testimony of what Jim had done was shocking but not … revolting? “Maybe it’s a good reminder of why you did it…” Because the blood of the hapless sod Sebastian was smelling on Jim, otherwise might have easily been his own.
Sebastian shifted a bit to nudge the laptop out of the way, his naked shoulder brushing Jim’s. Which was a far cry from touching without permission, right?
Through his head echoed Jim’s words about not intentionally wanting to inflict on him more than he could take.
“And… it looks like I’m healing better now,” he said with a suddenly husky voice. “So…” Maybe Jim needed to hold back less than he felt he had to. Sebastian swallowed. “There might be a broader margin for error now.”
The sudden rush of excitement, dread and heat was so powerful it took his breath away.
~
“I said that I’d calmed down, not that I’d developed a tolerance for that mouth,” Jim growled softly. There was always a need for condescension; belittling Sebastian at every opportunity was one of the few ways Jim was able to assert dominance over the man without actually hurting him.
Ungrateful as ever, the blond had the audacity to look pleased with his circumstances. Like he didn’t appreciate that he was alone with and baiting a man so dangerous people tended to whisper Jim’s surname if they dared speak it at all. And mere moments ago Seb had baulked at whatever murderous deviance lingered on Jim after showering! It could so easily have been Sebastian Jim had taken apart…
Jim’s fists clenched of their own volition. Jim glared as Moran smiled softly. You do spoil me. It somehow felt worse when the blond noticed how Jim tried with him. For him. For both of them.
Still. Sebastian was smiling. And as offended and vulnerable that made Jim feel, it drew him too. It soothed, that dangerous smile.
And no, you don’t need to change.
Jim had clearly lost his damned mind recently, giving Moran the opening to tell him what to do like that.
Maybe it’s a good reminder of why you did it.
Jim tilted his chin tiredly. ‘Yes Moran, look what you made me do,’ he thought. ‘Ignore what that says about how I feel about you, and centre in your tiny mind the stark reason why you ought never provoke me.’
Jim had half a mind to say that aloud, but he daren’t bring himself closer to explaining what had set him off in the first place. Best not to dwell on that.
And as ever Sebastian provided a tempting distraction: Jim was jostled from his thoughts by the slow brush of Seb’s warm skin against his own as the blond nudged his laptop aside. To… make room? He wanted Jim closer?
Sebastian’s voice had dropped to something encouraging when he saw fit to point out that his supernatural ability to heal post-shift meant he could cope if Jim was a slither too slow in getting his temper under control. The bruise sucked onto Sebastian’s face highlighted that the bone Jim had broken had healed overnight.
Something loosened just enough in Jim’s heartsore chest to let him breathe. He still had to be so fucking careful, his moodswings were notoriously lethal, but a ‘broader margin of error’ in controlling them was a welcome reprieve for a task so unpractised.
Jim opened one palm and carefully telegraphed his intention before he reached for Sebastian’s hair. When Seb made no protest, Jim twisted the locks around his fist with a warm sort of fierceness.
“One might think you want me to be rough with you,” Jim said archly. The heat that passed through their eyes exposed the fact that his chastisement was not at all as chiding as his tone implied.
“You need to be careful with that brave, masochistic streak of yours,” Jim admonished. “One of these days I’ll finally make you sorry, and then what will you do?”
Jim drew Sebastian’s hair closer to persuade Seb closer in turn. Unsurprisingly, Sebastian resisted for a moment, the corners of his lips curled up, and his gasp didn’t sound sorry at all when Jim gave a briefly painful yank.
“Filthy tease,” Jim murmured. “Do you know how difficult it is for me not to fuck you right now? I am not in the habit of denying myself, but you are supposed to be resting.”
Jim jerked Sebastian by the hair until he forced another delicious hiss from the precious man.
Jim dragged Seb up and back until he was flush with the headboard again. “Do you know how bare you look with so few of my marks?” Jim drawled as he pressed close, chest to chest. He captured Sebastian’s ear between his teeth and worked his mouth firmly along Seb’s jaw and throat.
Out of Jim’s peripheral vision he could see Sebastian struggling to find somewhere appropriate to put his hands. Jim trapped the nearest against his body and with his free hand captured the other, pushing his fingers between Seb’s.
~
Reaching for Sebastian, Jim’s hand hovered briefly - as you would gauge the reaction of an animal you didn’t want to spook (or to bite you) – but Sebastian just quietly exhaled when it settled down and in his hair and twisted. Found a yet better grip. Tightened it. Not least because Sebastian provoked him into doing just that, before he followed the pull… closer. Sebastian’s nostrils still quivered slightly when Jim came closer, his eyes as dark as his prophecies regarding the detrimental nature of his masochistic proclivities.
“I know…” Sebastian breathed, holding Jim’s gaze - it was a danger that made him feel much more alive than scared. But it was much too late anyway, now that they’d found each other, wasn’t it? It had a touch of inevitability to it, and a strange exhilaration too. Due to his acute senses the smell of blood and violence and arousal in the air between them made Sebastian almost woozy and this time there was no resistance as Jim manhandled him back against the headboard.
The noise he’d made in his throat had sounded delighted rather than contrite when Jim griped about the vanishing of the marks he had so zealously applied.
“Sorry for the drudgery,” Sebastian slurred as Jim’s mouth and teeth pressed against his ear, neck, jaw…. Apparently fiercely intent on mending that flaw. “… after every full moon from now on.”
The little smug note in his voice dissolved into a hiss and a groan as Jim sank his teeth into the side of his neck, making it clear he’d not shy away from the hardship.
Sebastian bucked as the bite got harder, his fingers tightening against Jim’s, who responded in kind, his teeth still not letting go. Sebastian writhed, held down by Jim's weight and fuzzily grateful for being prevented to do anything stupid with his hands.
~
Touching Sebastian was delightful, but how Seb responded was… intoxicating. Every quiver, every shift, every hiss and groan seemed custom tailored to reward Jim’s ministrations with dopamine, but cut through it all was fucking oxytocin and Jim’s mind was too foggy with pleasure to even consider cutting off the source.
Because he was hooked, despite all his best efforts to be otherwise. It made him stupid.
Jim’s lips curled widely against Sebastian’s neck as the smug, slurred comments from the man were replaced by deeply welcome noises of both pain and approval. Or at least something akin to encouragement, intended or otherwise.
Senses clouded with pleasure and his higher intellect occupied with the onerous task of not dragging Seb’s knees apart to take him dry, rest period or no rest period, Jim was focused on little other than the positive feedback from Sebastian, bucking and all, the way the blond’s skin tasted, and the way Seb squeezed his hand. Jim squeezed back, his jaw grinding hard into Seb’s skin and then-
Hot. Wet. Spilling over his tongue and pooling against Jim’s teeth.
Well that wasn’t sensible. It wasn’t sensible to stem the flow with a flat press of his tongue either, but that’s what Jim did. Seb could hardly transfer the healing properties of his own saliva to his abused throat.
Jim waited. The ebb of blood eventually slowed, but the stillness held an unfamiliar intimacy. He could feel every pulse of Sebastian’s against his oversensitised lips.
It occurred to Jim he could feel Seb’s pulse in his hand too; their fingers throbbing together in the tightness of his hold. No. Their hold. Seb was gripping him back just as tightly.
That felt good.
It shouldn’t.
Jim tested pulling away slowly. There was a small trickle of blood, but once Jim licked that away there wasn’t much more.
“Minx,” Jim whispered a little more shakily than he intended. The husky, sexual roughness of his voice was no surprise. He could never seem to get enough of Sebastian in any capacity.
Jim tisked to cover the sound of a need to clear his throat. “Now look what you made me do, poppet,” Jim scolded in a purr, then thoughtlessly gave the side of Sebastian’s face an affectionate little kiss.
~
Like the twisted, three-edged knife Jim had shown him, an intricate mix of pain, submission and exhilaration made Sebastian jerk and shiver, but not for one moment did he fear for his life… The homicidal frenzy had been spent away from home, for today. Jim’s tongue stemmed the swell of blood, and the bite had been not quite in the right place anyway (and no way Jim would get something like that wrong – unless he intended to.) Breathing heavily as Jim pulled back, Sebastian drew up an eyebrow. Minx?
“Tiger,” he corrected with a lazy smile.
The world was reasonably back in its orbit: him blatantly getting the blame for what Jim did to him. Which felt nice. To have such an impact on the most independent man he'd ever met. Of course he prudently avoided to point that out, but wasn’t very successful at coming up with a penitential expression. Not when hearing the rough, hungry catch in Jim’s voice, and even less so after that sweet little kiss on the bruise on his face. It appeared he’d yet again restarted a collection of those. While, regrettably, in other regards Jim seemed intent on much more self-restraint.
Sebastian let himself sink back into his pillows and a more comfortable position, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the purpling flesh below his jaw. While eyeing the savage beauty of Jim’s blood-red lips, something struck him. With a sense of alarm and then, an unbidden bout of hilarity, which he tried not to let bubble up to the surface. For that, the matter was much too serious.
“Let’s hope I’m not contagious that way…” Despite his best efforts his voice vibrated with suppressed mirth as he inevitably imagined Jim Moriarty having to adjust his diary, secluding himself every four weeks, because he periodically turned into a smol cranky tiger.
~
There were few men in the world who’d dare correct Jim Moriarty. There was only one whose only punishment would be a further yank on his hair and a correction of Jim’s own.
“My tiger.”
Jim gave Sebastian a firm, fiercely possessive look, then eventually had to shift his gaze before it became too difficult to keep things more dangerous than passion out of it.
Naturally Seb had a distraction for that as well. Jim had little experience with anyone who could capture his focus the way Sebastian did.
“I’ll get the doctor to take some blood from me as well when I get you checked over,” Jim said quietly.
Jim gave Sebastian’s hand a squeeze. “You better hope you’re not contagious. Either you are, and I’ve not caught it yet, so we have to use condoms for the rest of our lives, in which case I’ll be pissed. In fact I’ll probably be pissed if you’re only contagious certain times of the month and I have to work around that.
“Or there’s the option that I already have it, in which case you, my precious darling, are fucking screwed. Because if you were an aggressive sulky brute the closer we got to your transformation, and you are generally pleasant company, what the fuck do you think I’ll be like the closer I get to becoming a maneating beast?”
Jim had been joking, but the thought suddenly sank cold and heavy in his belly. He had a hard enough time controlling his temper now.
“I might need to hole up in poor Wales if I am infected,” Jim said quietly.
Jim twitched his lips in an effort to be cheerier. “Of course, there’s always the possibility that I am immune and you spend the rest of your life hearing how superior my genetics are. Doubtlessly the lack of inbreeding.”
Jim tilted Sebastian’s head playfully. “More importantly, tiger, I can still taste you on my lips. Make yourself useful and come lick me clean, will you?”
~
“We could hole up together in that beautiful secluded Welsh cottage,” Sebastian suggested. Probably there would be a lot of fur flying, because no doubt the viciousness of Tiger Jim would be inversely proportional to his size. “I’d have to be there too of course, to guard you. We could go hunting together, or swim in the lake...” he mused, almost sounding wistful, while Jim looked faintly disgusted at the thought of dipping even his toes not only into a cold but unsanitised body of water. So Sebastian cautiously kept the image of them both snuggling – after the daunting transformation back in their human form, feeling sore and miserable and tired – to himself.
But Jim was right – if human Sebastian was contagious, Jim was bound to have caught it by now. Sebastian’s ears tingled slightly while he recalled the last days, during which they’d shared bodily fluids without restraint and in any possible way he could think of.
Surely it must be a good sign that Jim didn’t feel even a touch of weirdness or change. Or… did he? Well, it couldn’t hurt to have him checked out; there had been abnormalities in Sebastian’s lab results, like the high RBC, only that no one had been able to make sense of it back then.
If it did turn out Jim had some superior immunity then all the better, Sebastian would bear the endless boasting about it with grace, and the needling about his own pure and therefore somewhat limited ancestral gene pool only prompted a snobbishly impassive look down his nose.
“Yeah, mongrels are much more resilient, especially the small ones,” he muttered under his breath but was already scrambling to his knees to be a good albeit aristocratic pet and do Jim’s bidding. How was he supposed to go about such an intimate task without crossing any boundaries – by mistake or deliberately, was beyond him. Jim’s bloodied lips curved in a sardonic little smile – Sebastian sensed it. He worked his lips and tongue softly, at first with, then against, the hint of a stubble. Jim’s skin and lips tasted of danger and sweetness and blood … It was so intoxicating that Sebastian found himself moving his hands behind his back and gripping his own wrist as the only way to keep himself from doing things that were definitely not allowed. Jim’s lips softened in… - approval? The tip of Sebastian’s tongue lapped a smudge of red off Jim’s lower lip, then ran along its curve, got a little bit bolder and then… seemed to forget a lot of things all at once and slipped between those lips as they parted with a deeper breath…
~
Jim grimaced rather pointedly at the idyllic little holiday Moran was inexplicably dreaming up for them. If he wanted to undertake a transformation in Seb’s company he’d hardly need to go to Wales for that, would he? His concern was the pair of them being at their most ferocious and uncompromising in the same space.
Jim narrowed his eyes further as Sebastian gave a cheeky quip under his breath. Really? The last time they’d been in a room together Jim had had to leave and perform despicable acts in order to prevent Sebastian being killed in the name of Jim’s temper, but already Seb was misbehaving like he had little more to fear than a firm slap or a yank of his hair.
The trust - the stupidity - did something uncomfortable to Jim’s insides.
Sebastian was approaching to follow through on his chore before Jim could think of anything suitably cutting to say.
Then Sebastian hesitated, as though expecting a trap. Jim’s lips spread in a slow, unkind grin. That was the sort of deference Jim commanded.
Sebastian rallied quickly, seemingly from desire as much as bravery if the way he mouthed Jim’s skin was an honest indication. And Sebastian usually was, only holding back what would get him into especial trouble.
Jim restrained his urge to bite or push or otherwise dominate the interaction. He tried to stay out of his head and in his body as he focused on Sebastian’s ministrations.
Even without the usual encouragement Seb quickly seemed worked up. His hands moved to behind his back and Jim grinned in fond amusement. It seemed rare for Seb to actively try not to be naughty, but he was likely still hoping that if he was a good boy he might get a reward.
As if not manipulating Sebastian into submission and fucking him through the mattress wasn’t torturous for Jim already. Jim usually had an iron will, but where Seb was concerned his best intentions often wavered, so Seb might well get what he wanted. Still, Jim would try to keep things restricted to kissing and perhaps petting.
And… it was nice. This. Seb working his tongue along Jim’s lip and pushing past. Jim was normally in such a rush to fuck Sebastian, to claim him, that he didn’t always give these moments the appreciation they deserved.
Jim gave Sebastian’s hair an encouraging little yank and leaned in, kissing back lazily.
His. This was Jim’s kingdom, and here was his greatest treasure. Tiger or not.
But the moment could still be improved. Sebastian seemed torn between pleased and frustrated, eager to be lost in the moment but hindered by firm boundaries, or perhaps his perception of them.
Jim pulled away reluctantly. Sebastian seemed displeased at once, but did not fully follow. Jim stayed close, only pulling apart enough to speak.
“I don’t mind if you touch me, just keep it respectfully neutral. None of that possessive or tender shit. No marks, no writing your fucking name on me.”
Jim nipped Sebastian’s lower lip sharply, still annoyed by that.
“And if you don’t think you can control yourself,” Jim added, “lie back and give me your wrists. I want your focus on me, not on whether you can manage to obey my rules.”
Jim sucked on Seb’s lip for a moment then muttered in the man’s ear. “Fair’s fair, handsome. Right now I only want to think about you.”
~
It … wasn’t a trap. It was… oh yes… In his unparalleled way Jim prompted him to go on and… kissed him back. The low sound in Sebastian’s throat showed that the sensible parts of his brain struggled to stay online. So, confining his hands behind his back seemed a feasible way to keep himself on the straight and narrow without violating the boundaries of a kiss.
But boundaries – as everything with Jim – were changeable, and very much depending on the mood of the little psycho. He pulled back which sent a twinge of vexation through Sebastian.
Christ, yes, Sebastian had gotten that: no proprietary or tender gestures for fuck’s sake, regardless of how one was supposed to touch someone during a kiss?! It was possession and tenderness and all the shades of it in between. But Jim would certainly tell him how he was supposed to…
What?
Respectfully … neutral.
A … respectfully neutral… kiss. Was that out of a bloody alignment chart for snogging?
“Sounds like something out of a royal ceremony,” Sebastian murmured. Point four: on imperial visit to his bed chamber ... This almost gave rise to another bout of the giggles, if Jim hadn’t nipped it in the bud, and into his lip. Before soothing it instantly, offering an alternative.
In consequence Sebastian flopped back down into the pillows, offering Jim his wrists.
~
Jim charitably ignored Seb’s retort other than to glower in regal impatience at the man.
This proved to be wise, because rather than being caught up in disciplining the overgrown brat, Jim was rewarded with Sebastian’s unusually easy submission.
Jim waited for just a moment to drink in the sight of Sebastian on his back, hands reaching out to be restrained, all in hopes of continuing their kissing without getting himself into trouble. A good boy, there for the taking and oh so beautiful in ways that were not restricted to his good looks.
Sebastian eyed him impatiently.
Jim smirked. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist; I’m just drinking in this rare moment of you doing precisely what Daddy told you to.”
Sebastian gave him a dry look.
Jim raised his brows. “If you were a good boy more often I wouldn’t be waiting back to admire you, would I? You’d have me on you already. Think on that, trouble.”
Jim joined Sebastian at the top of the bed and ignored Seb’s offered wrists in favour of snatching at the hem of Seb’s teeshirt. He yanked it over Sebastian’s head unceremoniously and threw it aside. Then Jim straddled Sebastian, finally pinned down those lovely arms, and nuzzled Sebastian’s jaw.
“Now where were we, my darling?” Jim purred. Sebastian’s skin felt hot against his own. The weapon holsters Jim wore felt slightly odd between them; he’d stopped bothering wearing them at home at some point.
Jim shifted and teasingly kissed around Sebastian’s mouth without meeting the lips that opened eagerly for him. Seb’s brow crinkled slightly and Jim grinned widely against the man’s cheek as Sebastian all but huffed.
“Want something?” Jim asked with an innocent lilt to his voice that would have gotten his face burst decades ago. It clearly hadn’t lost its ability to frustrate as Seb’s eyes flared beautifully.
Jim tutted and shifted his grip down from Sebastian’s wrists until he was holding both of Seb’s hands, fingers twined, deep in the pillows. “Now, now, precious, you aren’t having thoughts of being naughty are you?”
Sebastian swallowed prettily, likely as much at the pitch change in Jim’s voice as the implied threat. He was a brave and reckless masochist after all. Jim watched the wound on Seb’s throat bounce, but it did not reopen.
“Stay where you are and I’ll give you what you want in my own good time,” Jim ordered, stretching down to kiss a path from Sebastian’s chin to his chest.
“You know I adore you, pet, don’t you?” Jim purred. He licked one of Sebastian’s nipples then nipped it playfully between his teeth. Jim tugged until he got a response, then soothed the poor thing with his tongue. He gave it a not at all apologetic kiss. “So you know I won’t deny you,” Jim murmured. “Not when you have been such a good tiger for me.”
He kissed his way back up Sebastian’s collarbone and throat, luxuriating in Seb’s responses before finally taking Sebastian’s lower lip into his mouth. Jim licked and sucked suspiciously gently. He shifted his weight forward, shifting his hips from Seb’s waist to either side of the man’s rib cage, then pushed his tongue into Seb’s willing mouth at last.
~
Jim was taking his sweet time, and although Sebastian was thirsting get back to the kiss, he savoured it. It was rare, and as precious as the whispers and murmurs of praise, so genuine and sincere? - If that was something Jim was capable of? - the way his eyes took Sebastian in like a prized possession, roaming over his skin, almost felt as intoxicating as his mouth and hands… Which also felt conspicuously like what Sebastian himself wasn’t allowed to express – possessiveness and tenderness both. Of course he’d only bask in it and never point it out – otherwise Jim would stop.
No, restraints weren’t needed, Jim’s body alone pinned him down – hands first, then adding his weight… Leisurely yet methodically setting Sebastian’s skin on fire with almost chaste little licks and kisses until Sebastian arched underneath him, gasping and occasionally twitching at the flickers of pain Jim sprinkled in. Sebastian’s heart was beating fast and strong against his rib cage, confined between Jim’s knees and yet, some part of Sebastian also … gradually … relaxed. While the smell of gunmetal and blood and the leather of Jim’s holster never let him entirely relax and … forget.
Sebastian’s fingers tightened against Jim’s, but not in resistance, more like holding on. Holding on to the boundaries, settling into them until they were good and tight and he didn’t even have to think about them anymore.
Then, and only then … Jim resumed the kiss. A soft, mindless sound vibrated low in Sebastian’s throat and a few remaining brain cells idly wondered how long a recuperation period Jim deemed appropriate …? He certainly tasted just as hungry as Sebastian felt.
~
Jim kissed Sebastian long and hard. He sorely wanted to take things further, and found that holding his weight in Seb’s hands helped ground the urges to touch the blond in other ways.
“Honestly, Seb, what part of resting do you not understand?” Jim pulled back to tease in an artlessly ragged voice. “Standing to attention does not count as bed rest.”
Sebastian gave him a Look. Or at least it might have been intended that way; it was difficult to look disparaging with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.
Jim ground into Sebastian’s torso, easily as aroused as his captive.
“Do you know how difficult it is not to throw your legs over my shoulders when you buck your hips like such a cock-hungry whore when all I’m doing is kissing you?” Jim scolded, entirely unfairly.
Whatever clever response Sebastian might have had was forced back into his mouth by the passionate press of Jim’s tongue. Jim kissed until he couldn’t bear the teasing any more then threw himself to Sebastian’s side with a growl, their hands still clasped.
“Perhaps it’s time we play a game,” Jim announced, breathing heavily.
He nudged Sebastian lightly with his temple. “Remember those little memory games in the army? Well I want you to close your eyes and picture everything you saw in the drawer under my bed.”
Jim twisted to watch Sebastian’s face. “I want you to tell me three things you’d like for me to use on you in future, and three that you are not so keen on. I hardly need tell you there shall be consequences for lying, nor that Daddy always knows.”
Jim surprised himself by relenting enough to kiss Sebastian’s cheek. “It’s not your style to fib anyway, is it, trouble? You’re far too much of a brave, mouthy brat to bother trying to manipulate me that way.”
Jim nipped Sebastian’s ear. “Luckily for you. Now once you have told me your selections, I am going to think on them. I am going to pick three from either of your categories. And as long as the doctor clears you later for being well enough for play - and you look like you could handle a bit of play to me - then I am going have fun with you.”
Jim nuzzled Seb with a dark grin and purred, “Doesn’t that sound fun?”
~
Jim’s eclectic ideas of fun and games never failed to spike up Sebastian’s heart rate, which was now mirrored in a brief twitch of his fingers between Jim’s. Barely a few seconds ago he had been basking smugly in the obvious fact that he wasn’t the only one vexed by this enforced abstinence, and now Jim was blithely and easily tipping the scales. The little bastard was very good at that.
Sebastian’s mouth had dried out so quickly he was forced to swallow before muttering something very blasphemous. Which seemed a well of amusement to Jim, judging from the look and the little playful nudge he gave him.
Sebastian’s insides twisted nervously.
Jim’s question was merely rhetorical of course. The Regiment trained observational skills into all its soldiers until it became second nature to them, and Jim himself had honed that particular skill of his latest favourite tool to even greater sharpness. Of course Sebastian still did not possess an eidetic memory, but he might have come as close to it as you could if you weren’t born with it.
So, if Sebastian noticed seemingly meaningless details in the most banal situations and stored them away, what were the chances of him not remembering something that had shocked, surprised and … utterly fascinated him? They both knew the answer to that. He would not get away with fibbing. Nor would he try to. (Well, probably not). He couldn’t rely on Jim honouring his wishes anyway. He might or… he might not. He might blatantly pick exactly the things Sebastian was not keen on, exactly for that reason, the little prick.
“Christ, where do I start,” Sebastian muttered, obediently closing his eyes, not least because Jim’s gleeful, almost… hungry gaze on him was a horrible distraction. “Top left corner…?”
Sebastian breathed deeply like he was about to dive under water. “The restraints…” That was the part you could almost call mundane. Almost. “I like those, in whichever shape.” Collars, handcuffs, harnesses… Some – he’d seen fucking zip ties - looked more uncomfortable than others, some looked attractive from an aesthetic point of view, but Sebastian decided not to be too picky in that department.
He felt a bit dubious but also curious about the smaller, deceivingly inconspicuous-looking restraints - apparently designed for certain parts of the male anatomy (the ones currently not complying with the horizontal concept of bed rest). But all those things had one thing in common – they turned him on because even looking at them he felt entirely at Jim’s mercy. They’d be taking away his ability to fight back, as well as the need to restrain himself from doing so. “Except the cock cages,” he grimaced. They were just devious.
“Most of the … toys are erm… interesting.” Dildos, vibrators, plugs, you name it. “Depending on the size,” he added a bit sheepishly. Jim wouldn’t want to wear him out, would he? And he blatantly chose not to remember what had looked like vacuum wrapped pieces of ginger root…
“Gags are… can be… good I suppose?” Again, there was a vast variety of those, but nothing he would strictly opt out on. And it held a certain fucked up allure to be deprived of the ability to articulate yourself, like… it didn’t matter what you wanted.
“The whips…” Sebastian cleared his throat. “Never done that, but I’d … like to try? Well, not necessarily the one with the fucking razor blades, or the ones that look like they can break bones.” The sight still made him shudder, enhanced healing ability or not. “And no canes either,” he added rather drily. He’d had his fill of those.
In the light of Jim’s discerning collection it dawned on Sebastian how little experience he truly had with such stuff. Hell, he’d barely ever seen about half the things inhabiting that fucking drawer. Some of them he’d never known to even exist, and of a few he could barely guess their purpose.
He felt a flush creeping up his chest and neck as his mind’s eye wandered on, towards the bottom row of the collection and he realised he’d been peeking at it out of the corner of said eye, almost compulsively and with a perverse, slightly uneasy fascination.
There was a long polished wooden box with the letter M starkly edged – or burned -into the lid, and two smaller ones that reminded him of surgical equipment in a very unpleasant way. With a cold prickle down his spine Sebastian became aware of the still lingering smell of unrestrained violence and savagery that had entered the room with Jim.
“The boxes are…” he started hoarsely, not sure whether he even wanted to know what was in there. So he then simply closed with a: “I’d like to keep everything attached to me and in working order if possible…”
Sebastian steadied his breathing and finally cracked his eyes open. He turned his head to look at Jim. That list had been quiet a shambles hadn’t it? Not nearly as organised as it was supposed to be. But did it matter? Wouldn’t Jim do as he pleased anyway? And yet, more insanely: Sebastian trusted him. Which, as the rest of his reason that was still intact told him, was the last thing he should do – but he simply couldn’t think of an alternative.
~
Jim smiled when Sebastian closed his eyes obediently. Seb’s good behaviour was rare enough that it always pleased Jim, but this particular obedience meant that Jim did not have to control any of the expressions on his face whilst Sebastian played his little game.
Jim did his best not to speak whilst Sebastian recounted the memorable contents of the drawer, lest he get distracted. Jim smiled broadly - fondly - as Sebastian started first with the restraints. Of course Sebastian liked those - a big strong bloke like him wasn’t likely to experience many chances to submit without the use of restraints. Not that Jim needed to tie Seb down to direct him exactly how he wanted him in some situations.
Jim snorted softly at Sebastian’s distaste for any cock cages. Jim could probably teach Seb a lot about patience in a short period of time if he introduced Sebastian to one of the varieties that had spikes on the inside. Any excuse to make Sebastian gasp, whimper and redden.
Sebastian’s sheepish voice was equally intoxicating in the otherwise quiet room. Jim’s lips twitched. His big, brave boy might not be a size queen, but he took every inch Jim ever gave him with such good grace. Even when said inches were not flesh or silicone, but something that didn’t quite belong inside such a good boy, like a loaded pistol.
Jim snorted again and squeezed Seb’s hand in amusement at the offer of gags. The way the blond’s naughty mouth got him into hot water a gag would be a lifeline, but Jim liked the bratty snark that had become a familiar element of his home life.
Still, there was a certain appeal to having Seb wear a spider gag, not least because he couldn’t get them both into trouble with the illicit sort of kisses that had been the kitchen’s downfall.
Jim swallowed hard when Sebastian confessed inexperience with, and interest in, being flogged. Of course, Seb had always struggled to find someone worth submitting to, hadn’t he? All that insubordination in the army and the mouth on him even when entering Jim’s employment - of course Seb had been begging in his own proud way to be taken in hand and forced into place. Jim had to sit up and look at Sebastian then, heat pooling within him at the thought that Seb had never.
Jim would be the first and only man to show Sebastian the sting of a lash and everything that came with it.
Jim could be gentle with a first-timer. The harsher whips with blades and studs or brutal girth could stay in the drawer for now.
Jim paused, frowning. Most of his toys that were not intended for solo use were accessories to hurting strong men that Jim cared little for. What did he care if he broke ribs or caught and opened throats? No one lasted.
But improved healing powers or not? Jim felt a new and unsettling urge to clear his drawer of any toy too brutal to share with Seb. Jim wanted no temptations near to hand that might hurt his blond in ways that had difficult consequences.
Jim snapped his attention back to Seb as Sebastian asserted ’no canes either’ in a tone that Jim could only take as a challenge. A good caning might upset Seb, but it wouldn’t maim him. Sebastian was in no position to say no to anything, ever.
Jim was on the brink of balancing his warring instincts to protect or break Seb, and saying something, but before his eyes Sebastian pinkened beautifully, evidently thinking upon embarrassing things. Jim swung his mouth shut and swallowed as his mouth watered in response.
Seb’s voice was a treasure as he mentioned the boxes. He didn’t know their contents, did he? Some were mere implements of torture, their sexual nature of no real matter, but the contents of the wooden box Jim did intend to introduce Sebastian to in time. Of course he did. Perhaps over and over.
Sebastian said, “I’d like to keep everything attached to me and in working order if possible…”
For anyone else that would be a far greater ask. With Sebastian, Jim abhorred any thought of mutilating his man in ways more serious than mere aesthetics. Joking castration threats aside, Jim wanted to believe he would never damage Sebastian in unforgivable, unwelcome ways.
Sebastian opened his eyes slowly and turned to look at Jim. There was an openness to his gaze Jim did not deserve; his hands were still linked comfortably with Jim’s.
Jim kissed Sebastian’s forehead as a reward for such honesty and a way to take a few more seconds to fix an unshakable expression in place.
“Well,” Jim said. “Let’s recap shall we? On your ‘please, Daddy’ list we have: restraints, gags, modestly sized toys - of the insertable variety I surmise?- and whips.”
Jim waited, eyes on Sebastian, until he was given a pink-eared agreement.
“And on the list of things you are not thrilled about, we have cock cages, canes, and anything that causes you real harm, is that correct?” Jim asked, just to force Seb to agree with him.
Jim eyed Sebastian seriously. “I have no interest in breaking you physically. It’s boring. I have spent my entire life hurting big, strong, powerful men in every way I could think of. And that’s fine, work or play, when they’re easily disposable. But we’ve established you have more uses than that. So you don’t… you don’t have to worry that I’m going to do you real harm just to… just to get off. If I merely wanted to hurt someone I could go to work. At home I’m looking for… other types of stimulation. It’s not just about making someone else suffer.”
Jim shifted. “That doesn’t mean I won’t do things you don’t like. It does turn me on when you submit to me in ways that make you resentful. That humiliate you. That prove that you don’t just want to wear a pretty collar and get tied up sometimes, but that you are serious in giving yourself to me in your entirety, to do with as I wish, because you are mine, and what you want is irrelevant.”
Jim threw a leg over Sebastian and tugged him closer. “That is not to say you are irrelevant either. If I didn’t value you at all I would not bother to play nicely with you, as I am sure next door have made you aware.” Jim rolled his eyes, but then softened his tone. “I enjoy when you enjoy what I do to you. Anything you’ve never done with anyone else that you want to try… any way you want to submit to me, pet, I’ll gladly train you.”
Jim twitched his lips playfully. “I was perfectly serious when I told you I’d put you to work once you’d recovered from your tiger drama.”
~
Even while focusing not only on recapitulating the contents of The Drawer, but giving his very personal opinion on it, Jim’s reactions throughout were not lost on Sebastian. Not distracting, more… coaxing him through it. A soft huff, containing an audible smile when Sebastian mentioned certain… implements, a brief press of Jim’s hand, subtly nudging him forward when he wasn’t sure whether he was on the brink of being mortified or aroused (or teetering between both). Jim shifting, his breath catching at one point, quickening at others… Oh yes, even absorbed as he was, Sebastian’s ultrasensitive hearing picked all this up easily.
His skin was damp, like after a workout, when he opened his eyes again. Jim leaned in, rewarding him with a small… almost ceremonial kiss on the forehead, and even though his expression seemed largely unaffected when he drew back again, Sebastian knew he wasn’t. Underneath it was bright-eyed anticipation. It sent a smile across Sebastian’s face and a subtle shiver down his spine.
And a rush of heat through his belly, as he was listening to Jim recounting his lists in minute detail, insisting on Sebastian confirming them. He had to wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before he could answer.
“Yes,” he croaked out, slightly flustered, realising there were definitely more than the required three things on his Yes List. But for a change there wasn’t a mocking or teasing note in to Jim’s voice, but something… gentle, yet serious. This felt like an agreement, an… understanding.
Sebastian’s breath came easier now, with another affirmative: “Yes.”
It was an understanding. Of what they both would give and get in return. Sebastian was under no illusion that there was any safety net … anywhere. That he would be able to tap out as Jim strayed from one list to the other, or entirely off of both, simply because it pleased him. That there’d be limits Jim wouldn’t push. That this was going to be anything less than dangerous.
But oh the promises shimmering behind the unspoken words… were somewhat scary, because of how unerringly they touched upon and illuminated the deepest and darkest recesses of Sebastian’s desires. Where things lurked he’d never even fully acknowledged before. Twisted things, depraved and lurid, dangerous and beautiful. And Jim… would take him there, to get to know them. Thoroughly. Because it would give him pleasure too…
It was an agreement and despite feeling a bit shaky, Sebastian didn’t hesitate …
Whether this was the gates of heaven or hell, or some other, entirely unknown universe – it was the Realm of Jim Moriarty and … where else was it worth being?
There was a sincerity to the promise – the only one - Jim gave him: that he had no intent nor desire to physically break him simply because he could, and didn’t care if he did. Which of course was not remotely a safety net either, not when coming from the most unpredictable man on earth, whose impulse control was like that of a shark in bloodied waters…
But caution was the last thing that had brought Sebastian Moran into Jim’s employ, and into his bed.
“That is…” he breathed deeply and the corners of his mouth twitched. “… good enough for me.”
He nodded, hands still clasped with Jim’s, who now leaned in closely. Behind the playful gleam in his eyes something stirred, dark and triumphant and gorgeous.
‘Giving yourself to me in your entirety’
- and all that this entailed.
“Yes,” Sebastian breathed.
~
Dark amusement stretched out Jim’s lips. “As lovely as your enthusiastic consent is, my darling, I wasn’t asking you anything. I’m telling you the lay of the land.”
Jim took back one of his hands and trailed his palm down Sebastian’s chest to his belly. Seb’s breathing changed as Jim’s fingertips grazed his treasure trail then tugged lightly.
“You belong to me, to do with as I wish,” Jim reiterated in a voice composed specifically to make Seb twitch.
Jim looked back up at Sebastian. “You get no say in anything, unless I’m feeling magnanimous. You are simply along for the ride.” Jim’s eyes were dark with promise and he ground his interest into Sebastian’s hip firmly. “And I certainly intend to toy with you then put you on your belly and fuck you until you black out today.”
Jim slithered his hand lower, then gave Sebastian’s bollocks a pat just firmly enough to make the man buck reflexively.
Jim gave him a mocking smile and squeezed Seb’s hand in his own. Then Jim sat up and reached with his free hand for the nearest phone.
“Daddy’s calling your doctor, tiger.” Jim brought Seb’s hand to his lips and absently kissed the knuckles as he unlocked the device and pulled up a number. “The sooner you have a clean bill of health, the sooner I can make a start on ruining you in the ways we have just spoken about.”
The corner of Jim’s mouth quirked up. “Perhaps I should have the doctor stay? You might need attending to afterwards,” he drawled.
~
Jim dispelled any misconceptions that his questions had been anything but rhetorical. Rather the means to see Sebastian blush and hear the ragged note in his reply, which of course had no bearing whatsoever on the world according to Jim.
A world in which the fact that Sebastian was here was all the consent ever needed.
This wasn’t a game, nor a negotiation. Sebastian was his.
Being informed that he would not have a say in anything Jim did to him should have sent him running for the hills, but any voice of reason had been fighting a lost battle ever since the day he’d met this man. There would be moments when Sebastian submitted willingly, there would be others, and much more frequently, when he would fight it tooth and nail and every inch of the way, but in the end… he would. Because you didn’t throw such an exquisite and enjoyable challenge before Jim Moriarty and expect him to relent.
So, yes, Jim was merely stating the facts.
And while some corner of Sebastian’s consciousness might still harbour some conflicting emotions about this, the autonomous reactions of his body to Jim’s touch, to his words spoke for themselves. And god, that mocking, knowing smile on Jim’s face as he drank this in, looking down on him… Sebastian wasn’t able to stifle a moan, but at the same time lifted his chin in a gesture of challenge, his hip pushing back against the unmistakable evidence of how much Jim was looking forward to this too.
Kissing Sebastian’s knuckles while musing about his possible later need for medical care constricted Sebastian’s throat a bit. But as sick as it might be, he had never longed so much for a fast, clean bill of health in his life.
"If it's one of the bunch from the hospital," Sebastian muttered, "he'll probably be very much out of his depth with anything more difficult than sticking a needle into me."
Of course it wasn't very fair to hold it against them that the diagnosis had eluded them. What was called anyway? Tigantrophy? Imagine they would know – now that was not a welcome thought either…
And as if Jim had read his mind, he shook his head. “No, we don’t want any of them to start wondering about how injuries that haven’t budged in weeks can be gone within 3 days. That would draw unwanted attention, and unnecessarily so.”
So in the end it was one from the hand-picked pool of physicians Jim had at his disposal – one who Sebastian had not had any dealings with since coming back from India.
When he guy arrived, it was Poppy who saw him into the room (it appeared they were taking turns next door today, whenever a trip to the main house was required).
“Just a general medical check-up for him,” Jim told the doctor, pointing towards Sebastian.
~
Jim really could have put his shirt back on before Poppy let the doctor in. There had been plenty of time.
It hadn’t occurred to him. Increasingly Jim was finding that instead of his usual drowning in options and consequences he just… didn’t think…
He was preoccupied with Sebastian. Work kept piling up and Jim could hardly bring himself to care. He had a man at his side who could turn into a tiger.
He had a man at his side who’d fascinated him even before then. Sebastian had been in Jim’s employ for over a year, and living with him since autumn. Inexplicably, the tiger thing was barely a footnote in the things that made Sebastian Moran special. Getting under Jim’s skin, making him eat and sleep and… stay in the moment.
Jim’s state of undress hardly mattered. If anything it highlighted the gun holster across his chest and the illegal pistol resting within.
And the doctor had worked for Jim long enough to know Jim had far more weapons than the obvious one.
Poppy had given more attention to the fact that both Jim and Sebastian were in a topless state. She gave each of them a quick glance, lingered briefly on the bitemark at Sebastian’s throat, and wisely said fuck all.
“We’ll buzz you to escort him out when we’re done,” Jim said tartly.
Jim nudged Sebastian into the doctor’s path. “Now, if you don’t mind,” Jim said in a voice that made clear he didn’t care what the doctor minded.
Finally, someone around here still remembered unquestioning obedience. The doctor put Sebastian through his paces, which Seb tolerated with better humour than last time, not least because he had been allowed to feed himself and knew Jim had much more interesting plans for later.
Jim’s satisfaction was short-lived. He felt a wave of possessiveness as the doctor prepared to take samples of Sebastian’s blood. The equipment was in Jim’s hands moments later, a growl in the air holding the other men precisely where he wanted them, and then Jim was focusing on the intake of Sebastian’s breath. The slow push in, and the drag out. The warmth of the blood filling the vial.
Jim swapped out the full jar for another deftly. His injured fingers made little difference.
Afterwards Jim had Seb hold a small wad of cotton to the wound and had the doctor write Seb’s details on the labels.
Jim sat and took a fresh needle to repeat the process on himself. He had no problem with pain or the sight of blood, but he’d have to eat something before he spilled any more fun bodily fluids. Blood loss always made him light headed and cranky.
Jim paused, realising that changing vials was even more awkward when his fingers were scabbed. He didn’t have time to hesitate, or his hot blood would be all over the floor, over his trousers, but then there were other fingers where they needed to be.
Not the doctor’s.
Sebastian’s fingers, anticipating Jim’s needs as always. His nose was crinkled, evidently at the smell of Jim’s fresh blood.
Jim grunted in acknowledgment.
~
Sebastian endured the examination quite graciously. Whenever his attention was not required for things like looking into a frigging light for instance, his eyes strayed to Jim, not only because of the delectable sight of his naked gun-strapped torso, but also watching a journey through subtle yet riveting facial expressions – realising with slight delay they were reactions to the actions of the doctor. Whenever the man’s hands were on Sebastian’s skin, feeling his pulse and lymphnodes or testing reflexes, Jim’s eyes narrowed. The doctor’s request (and Sebastian’s compliance) to open his mouth turned Jim’s lips into a very unamused thin line, and the appearance of tourniquet band, tubes and needles seemed to add the final straw. A low, very displeased growl froze the proceedings mid-air, and Jim grabbed the equipment to take over. Sitting very still on his chair, arm on the table, Sebastian didn't move a muscle apart from making a fist and later opening it again. Jim's hands worked unhurriedly, competently, despite the cuts and bruises. Sebastian watched almost entranced how the needle was pushed in, like... punctuating the fact that no one but Jim had the right to break his skin and (literally) draw blood. Well - at least not while he was present and had to watch it.
Sebastian was still pressing down the cotton pad into the crook of his arm when Jim tightened the rubber band around his own bicep and grasped fresh equipment. Again it struck Sebastian that Jim was pushing the needle quite expertly, this time into his own vein... But before he could ponder the implications, Sebastian was shaken out of his reverie when Jim struggled to complete the procedure one-handed. Sebastian swapped the rapidly filling tube for an empty one, and later the needle for a cotton pad and a band-aid. He was bit weirded out by noticing the subtle differences in smell between his own blood, Jim’s, and the one that had clung to him when coming back, which faded back behind the other two now.
The doctor had recovered his wits enough to label the samples. “I’ll get these to the lab immediately and you can expect the results within two hours.” He stowed his paraphernalia away and snapped his case shut. “So far I can see nothing wrong with Mr Moran here,” he briefly looked at Sebastian, his gaze somehow avoiding the bite mark at the side of his neck and the purple discolouration on his cheek bone.
Sebastian thanked him politely, while Jim paged Poppy to show the man out.
“Something to eat?” Sebastian asked hopefully, when the door had closed behind them. Jim nodded.
The leftovers from the Sudanese restaurant had long since gone cold, so Sebastian picked up the tray to – wait, no, they didn’t have a functioning microwave. They didn’t even have a kitchen.
So he put the tray down again and rang Mrs Caruso with a plea for more food. Wondering who would come over this time to bring it…
Then his mouth twitched. “I am quite glad that certain… special examinations weren’t on the good doctor’s itinerary today.” His eyes travelled from Jim’s face down to his holstered weapon. “For me and him both.”