sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXV

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Prompting Part XXXV

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jim does not consult rapists because he finds them triggering. Consider this to be the evil twin of the "Sherlock does not take rape cases" prompt and go wild with it. I have no regrets.

I'm the author of that other twin. I can't wait for this to be filled!!! I like that you have no regrets!!

Thirded!

Can someone link me to the other prompt?

http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/22393.html?thread=131124345#t131124345

Author of this fill!

I swear, that fic hasn't been abandoned. It's coming.

(OP) I hope so. I'd like to read the rest of it.:D

I'm thinking about writing this, but it'd be pretty angsty. :P Any preferences on pairings, or would you rather it be gen?

Angst is totally fine with me. I'd leave all details including possible pairings up to you. (I'm a MorMor shipper, though, and if you are too I'd be glad if Seb is included.)

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Rape & Violence. Explicit Sexual Content & Swears. It also features more MorMor (haha) than I was intending when outlining this, but it just kind of flowed that way. :) I'll try to have the rest of the parts up over the next week.

“He’s la-a-te,” Jim Moriarty sing-songed, propping his feet up on his desk and flipping through texts on his mobile. A Manila folder tumbled to the floor, scattering its precious documents. Jim didn’t bother retrieving them. Just some drivel concerning Iranian arms deals; vastly unimportant.

Sebastian Moran shot him an miffed look from his seat by the window --an expression that Jim would’ve murdered anyone else over-- but was too wise to comment. He returned to his book, A Scanner Darkly by some American author. Jim couldn’t comprehend Sebastian’s sudden interest in the man’s written works, and it both intrigued and annoyed him.

"If he doesn’t show, I blame you,” Jim said, attempting to elicit some kind of response. “You’re the one who bullied me into this.”

This was, in fact, true. Living life without fucking over Sherlock Holmes was tiresome, and it had become difficult not to simply pop on over to Baker St. and have a cuppa and a nice chat with the precious Mrs. Hudson. Just imagining the looks of horror on Sherlock and his pet, Watson’s, faces when they came home and saw him in their sitting room made him absolutely giddy.

But no, it would’ve been much too soon after their last meeting. A little suspense never hurt anybody. The problem was, even skewering the Ice Man’s plans had lost much of its entertainment value, and he had found himself recalcitrant when dealing with new clients, preferring to stew dangerously in his own boredom.

The problem with people, Jim thought, was that they all considered themselves to be sooo interesting; especially the wannabe criminals who hired him because they were too cowardly or inept to take care of their own shite.

“You need something to keep your mind occupied, or you’re going to go mental,” Sebastian stated gruffly, grey eyes peeking over the top of his book for a moment before disappearing.

“I’m already completely insane,” Jim sniped immediately.

Sebastian laughed, looking up briefly at Jim’s face to make sure he wasn’t offended. “Well, you’re going to drive me mental. All you do is watch surveillance footage of Holmes and-”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, sweetheart,” Jim interrupted. “You know you're daddy's favourite.”

The glare Sebastian sent him was delicious and Jim grinned impishly at him.

Before things had a chance to escalate, Jim heard the faint squeak of shoes on vinyl outside the door to his office. This was soon followed by a knock. Jim settled back into his seat with an aggravated sigh, reluctantly tucking his phone away. "Entrer!” he trilled.

Daniel Green didn’t just walk into Jim’s office; he sauntered in, looking far too smug and suave for a man who was five minutes late to their appointment. It would have been more impressive had it been genuine instead of an act. Nervous anxiety practically radiated from the man. Jim could read it with ease from the fresh worry lines decorating his forehead down to the sweaty fingerprints he'd left while tying his shoes. To show his displeasure at the man's tardiness, Jim maintained a stolid expression in the face of the faux-apologetic smile he received. Green’s pretentious smile faltered at Jim’s non-reaction and he dithered near the door-frame, swinging his arms like a Neanderthal as he waited for Jim to speak.

He was quite a handsome fellow, Jim couldn't fail to notice; a rugby player by the look of him - probably exquisitely muscled under that three-piece suit. His neatly combed dark hair and golden-brown eyes were complimented by an artfully stubbled visage and perfectly tanned skin. He was every adolescent girl’s pretty-boy dream. Exactly how Jim had figured he’d look. It was quite disappointing.

Jim wouldn’t have bothered with him at all if the young man's father hadn’t been the CEO of BAE Systems. The war in Afghanistan and Iraq had benefited their company greatly, and Sebastian had been eager to get in good with them.

"Are you going to sit down or continue lingering in the door, wasting my time?" Jim inquired neutrally, drumming his fingertips on the arms of his chair. He rotated himself gently back-and-forth using the toes of shoes, head swaying slightly.

"Y-es, of course. I mean, I’m going to sit, thank you." Green closed the door behind him, a little too hard. It shut with a sharp snap, ruffling the loose papers littering the floor. Green cringed a little, trying valiantly to hold Jim's gaze as he took the seat opposite.

Jim waited for Green to finish fidgeting and fix his eyes more steadily on Jim's, before asking in a higher-pitched tone than before: "Well... what d’ya need?" He savoured Green's bewildered expression at the sudden shift. Priceless, truly.

Green shifted in his seat once more, crossing an ankle across his thigh, surreptitiously wiping his hands on his neatly pressed trousers. "Ummmm..." sweat beaded on his upper lip.

"I can't work with 'ummmm'," Jim stated. His well of patience, which had begun to ebb at the man's lateness, was now almost entirely non-existent.

Green reddened, eyes narrowing in anger as though Jim was a nasty teacher who had reprimanded him for giving a stupid answer. "Three-hundred-thousand pounds," he muttered, glancing over at Sebastian, whose nose was still buried deeply in his novel.

"You need me to loan you that amount?" Jim asked incredulously, voice thick with feigned ignorance.

"No! That's the price for the job I need you to do," Green stated obviously. Now that he was talking money, confidence (or was that pride?) had crept into his voice. For some reason it rankled Jim.

"Ahhhh, well, you see Dan," Jim said slowly, "I don't care about the money... though, for a man of your status, it is insultingly low." Anger coursed through him suddenly like a hit of quality blow to a junkie's nervous system. He saw Sebastian shift out of his peripheral, closing the book on his index finger, always so attuned to Jim's emotional state. He was surprisingly observant for a normal person. Normal, but not typical; definitely nothing as atrocious as that.

"Tell me what you want me to do for you," Jim commanded, pronouncing each word distinctly. “We’ll discuss payment later.” He waved his fingers dismissively.

Green planted both feet firmly on the floor, leaning forward, shoulders hunched and wiping the sweat from his upper lip. All false bravado had evaporated. "What about him?" he asked, looking pointedly at Sebastian.

"Think of him as furniture," Jim said flipping his hand carelessly in Sebastian's direction.

"Right." Green cleared his throat before continuing. "There's this video," he murmured quietly, clearly trying to keep his words from reaching Sebastian despite Jim's dismissal of him. "One of my mate's, he got blasted and posted it online. He deleted it later, but it was downloaded a bunch of times. If it's found by the wrong people, charges might be pressed and..." he trailed off, gazing uncertainly at Jim.

Jim frowned, wanting to scream in frustration, perhaps overturn the desk or snatch Sebastian's precious book away and chuck it out the window. It was so fucking trivial!

Yet, helping the idiot would be easy money, complete with an excellent chance for blackmail at a later date. Why not do it?

"What does the video contain?" Jim asked, fingers drumming restlessly again.

Nearly forty seconds of silence followed the question as Green struggled to word his answer. Just as Jim was about to grab his lapels and shake the ever-living piss out of him, he spoke.

"A group of friends and I hired a couple strippers, and we took turns filming them on my friends phone." Embarrassment coloured his face. "We took turns." Green's eyes found the floor and seemed unlikely to move.

"You fucked them?" Jim inquired, smirking at the way Green twitched at his crude choice of verb.

"Y-yes, but it wasn't..." Green rubbed the back of his neck, appearing wide-eyed and shocked. It didn't improve his looks.

"Wasn't what?" Jim prompted quirking an eyebrows.

"It wasn't entirely consensual," Green admitted slowly.

Jim's smile transformed into something grotesque and his entire body ceased moving; even the minutest twitches halted. His stomach swooped and his body broke out in goose-flesh. Almost four years had passed, four glorious years, since he'd slipped up this badly. Up to then he'd always conducted thorough background checks, hardly ever took on clients without knowing what they wanted from him beforehand. Having intimate knowledge of their dirty laundry was also good. But he'd foolishly allowed respect for Sebastian and some vague personal curiosity to drive him this time. Now he was reaping the reward for his carelessness.

"By not entirely consensual, you mean you and your friends raped them?" Jim asked tonelessly, mind entirely blank for once.

"Yeah," Green breathed shakily, sounding relieved at not having been the one to verbalize the word. "They were only...you know... what they were, but if someone sees it -a rival of my dad's company, or someone else- my family could be ruined." Appearing close to tears now, he looked pleadingly up at Jim, shoulders hunched, clearly waiting for him to offer up some sympathy and reassurance.

Jim's hands curled into fists, nails biting deeply into his palms. His eyes burned and his smile curled into a grimace of hatred. "Get out," he hissed

"What?" Green gasped, entirely taken-aback. "Are you going to do it?"

Jim stood so fast his chair toppled and he slammed his hands hard upon the desk in front of him with a resounding bang. Green jumped from his seat, horrified. "Leave, now," Jim commanded. His body and voice trembled as he spoke.

Green's eyes flicked from Jim to (a now standing) Sebastian, then back to Jim once more. "I don't think you fully comprehend-"

"Leave before I kill you," Jim hissed venomously.

Green, now deathly pale, stumbled backwards to the door and let himself out. Jim waited until the sound of his harried footsteps faded to nothingness before bending down and picking up his chair. There were streaks of blood on his desk and he stared uncomprehendingly at the crescents his nails had dug into his palms.

He still felt sick and light tremors periodically wracked his frame. Cold sweat beaded on his brow and wet his underarms. He swiped away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Boss, Jim," Sebastian said gently, causing Jim to cringe.

"What?" he snapped, feeling shaken.

Sebastian said nothing, but his calloused fingers pressed a tissue into Jim's hands.

Jim didn't thank him, he just cleaned the blood from the shallow cuts, folded the cloth and wiped down the table. At least he hadn't bled too heavily. He crushed the tissue in his fist and tossed it into the waste-basket

"Not trying to complain, but we really could've used him," Sebastian said after a prolonged pause. It would've been impossible for the most simple-minded individual to miss the curiosity present in Sebastian’s voice.

Jim twisted around and lunged forward until their faces were less than two inches apart. "I don't give a shit about some snotty CEO's prick son!" he snarled.

Sebastian didn't flinch away. He just stared dispassionately into Jim's eyes, and then shrugged as if it was no biggie. "Whatever you say, boss."

There was tiniest hint of derision placed on the word 'boss'. Given his current mood, Jim could have snapped Sebastian's neck for the slight. Instead Jim glared hard at him, then leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Irene Adler'll be in soon," he growled before flinging himself back into his seat, cupping his elbows in his palms and rubbing them soothingly. She'd better be in soon anyway, or she might as well consider herself a corpse.

Oh, wow! Not my usual type of reading, but I really like this story. I hope you're going to post more soon.

Re: You Were My First - Part 1c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-11 02:19 (UTC) - Expand

1984
"Hold still, will you," Samantha Moriarty chastised gently in her soft Cork drawl. She gripped Jim's chin between her fingers and thumb, taking a prolonged look at his injuries. The pain emanating from his wounds, the taste of blood in his mouth, and his mother's deepening frown felt out of place with the comforting scents of dinner heating in the oven and the aroma of her favourite apple candles surrounding them.

Jim sat patiently on the chair she'd pulled out for him at the dining table, swinging his legs a bit as her hands ghosted over his face. The toes of his trainers barely brushed the floor, and his hands rested on his knees, fingers plucking at the loose fabric of his trousers. He was still humiliatingly short and small for his age.

His mum sighed and dabbed at Jim's broken lower lip with a soft cloth soaked in antiseptic. Jim grimaced but stopped squirming, compartmentalizing the pain emanating from his injuries with difficulty. Not only in his split lip, but the bruises forming on his right cheekbone and his lower abdomen. There were minuscule slices on his forearms as well, from where he'd braced himself on the pavement earlier.

Jim looked steadily into his mother's dark-brown eyes as she worked, determined to remain unflinching as she tended his wounds. Her hands were gentle on his abused flesh, but he loathed the comfort now as he hadn't when he was younger.

He didn't need this. He needed to be allowed to go to his room and plot his revenge in privacy. That wasn't exactly a decent thought to express aloud, however.

"Who did this to you, James?" she asked for about the hundredth time.

He shrugged non-committally. "No one. It was just an accident."

She regarded him sceptically and opened her mouth, most likely to interrogate him further, but before she could speak the front door opened and his dad plodded inside. He was a rather huge man with a thatch of thinning grey hair and shrewd dark blue eyes. There was a tired sort of smile on his face, but it slid off almost comically when he saw Jim's condition.

"What the feck happened to him?" he nearly shouted. He tossed his small briefcase on the table with a thud and wended his way around the table. He practically shoved his wife out of the way to kneel in front of Jim and grip his shoulders in his large hands.

"I tripped on the way home from school," Jim lied defiantly, glaring fiercely at his parents even as his injuries throbbed anew.

Mrs. Moriarty stood by watching them, chewing her lower lip anxiously, arms crossed protectively over her stomach. "I think it was that Sean Hughes," she blurted suddenly. "I really should have a talk with that lad's parents."

Jim scowled, hating everything about her in that moment. Her inability to comprehend his needs, her timidity, and especially the way her accent shifted from Cork to Dublin in subconscious mimicry of his father because she was ashamed of it.

"Is that true, James?" His father watched him intently, hands holding him in place. The faint smell of chemicals broke through the clinical smelling soap he must have washed up with earlier. Today must have been a lab instead of a lecture day.

Jim nodded reluctantly.

"Did you give him a decent knock in return?"

Jim shook his head. "He's a lot bigger than me," he confessed, face burning.

Mr. Moriarty huffed an annoyed breath. "It doesn't matter. You can't let anyone walk over you like that, or others will see and it will never stop. You have to defend yourself, or you'll be pegged as a weakling."

"Arthur," Jim's mother protested shrilly.

They both ignored her. "I'll get my own back," Jim whispered angrily, looking his father right in the eye.

After a moment his dad nodded and gave his shoulders one final squeeze. "Good man." He stood and grabbed his briefcase. "Now help your mama set the table?"

"Yes, sir," he agreed, eager to end the conversation.

While his dad went to his room to change, Jim helped set the table, pretending he didn't notice his mum's concerned expression, daydreaming of the myriads of ways he would like to make Sean Hughes pay.

~*~

Jumbo Jet. Dear me, Mr. Holmes, dear me.
A ghost of a smile flitted momentarily across Jim's face as he reread the text before deleting it and cleaning out the rest of his messages. He let his hand and phone flop onto his stomach and leaned his head back to watch the national news with a disinterested eye. He'd slung his jacket across the back of the couch and was sitting cross-legged in his armchair. His stomach growled, and he honestly couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten. It mattered little as it was nearly six in the evening, which Sebastian would be home soon. Probably with a disgusting pizza in tow.

He closed his eyes and Daniel Green's handsome face flickered behind his lids, smirking. Jim gritted his teeth, body tensing. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. It'd been almost two weeks and still he couldn't let it go. He'd even found the damned video. It had been quite easy. It had made its merry way around several rapey porn sites. Jim hadn't been able to watch it, though he had downloaded it with the savoury idea of leaking it to a hungry journalist. In spite of his intentions, the video just sat untouched in his downloads folder like a nettled viper waiting to strike.

Jim didn't want to smear the young man's name quite yet. He had other plans first.

Several minutes later Jim heard Sebastian's careful, even tread outside the door before detecting the scrape of a key sliding into the lock. Jim sat up quickly and straightened his tie, attempting to look alert. He gazed at the shifting, colourful images on the television, trying to appear as though he was paying attention to what was going on in the wide world.

As predicted, when he turned his head, he saw that Sebastian was juggling a large pizza box and a plastic bag bulging with what were obviously an array of various convenience store items. There was a dissonant jingle as he dropped his keys onto a cabinet and headed for the kitchen, snapping on the lights. "You hungry?" Sebastian called.

Jim slid out of his armchair and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. "A bit," he answered, stepping into the kitchen behind Sebastian and leaning against the counter, watching as Sebastian occupied the island. "I'll take a piece of that."

Sebastian smiled a little at the demand and fetched two plates from the cabinet. He dished the slices out in utter silence. The voices of the news anchors echoed eerily through the flat. "How did it go?" Jim asked eventually, as Sebastian rescued the cheese that was attempting to make a bid for freedom, pulling it apart in stringy ropes. The quiet between them was making him edgy.

Sebastian sensed the tension and regarded Jim warily, sucking grease off his thumb. "Smoothly. He didn't put up too much of a fuss, though that might change after he's had a little while to calm down; to feel safe. When people feel safe they do stupid things."

Jim hummed in agreement.

"What's going on with you?" Sebastian inquired seemingly out of random. There were dark smudges under his eyes from who knew how many sleepless nights, yet his gaze was as sharp as ever. Jim knew that some of the guys teased Sebastian by calling him Hawk-Eye, and Jim loathed that easy camaraderie.

Jim grimaced and looked elsewhere, not yet ready to answer. He reached around Sebastian and snatched his plate from the island, biting into a slice of pizza with more relish than he usually reserved for the vile food. He wrinkled his nose when he tasted onions, but kept chewing. Sebastian didn't join him, waiting patiently for Jim continue. Jim swallowed his bite noisily, desperately uncomfortable all of a sudden. He loathed for anyone (even Sebastian) to see him do anything as human as eat.

He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, stalling for time.

"I want you to apprehend Green," he said when he felt sufficiently composed.

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up nearly to his fringe. "That rich-bitch wanker you turned down a couple weeks ago?”

“That's the one.” He tried to sound blasé and thought he succeeded fairly well.

“Why? He didn't seem worth your time. And what am I supposed to do after I have him?”

They were definitely getting a bit too comfortable with one another if Sebastian was questioning his demands so easily. It was beginning to irk him. "Just bring him here. Make sure you don't leave a trail."

"To our home?"

"Yes," Jim said, fighting to keep his temper in check. All he wanted to do was let it loose, give it free reign.

"Are you sure that's wise? It's difficult enough keeping this place off the radar without offing people inside of it." He sounded upset.

Jim narrowed his eyes and set his plate down. "I don't care how mad it is. I want him brought here. Soon."

"What am I supposed to do with him then?" Sebastian asked stiffly. He straightened his posture, which meant Jim had to look up at him.

"Nothing, until I'm through with him."

Sebastian looked genuinely surprised. "But you don't get your hands dirty."

Jim grinned toothily at him, exasperation dissipating rapidly. "There are always exceptions, darling."

Sebastian smiled uneasily and dug into his own pizza, clearly unamused. His eyes were worrisomely guarded.

Jim felt his stomach twist, wondering if Sebastian was planning to abandon him; if his mood swings were becoming too much to handle. He'd be the first to admit he had been particularly volatile the last couple weeks.

In spite of -or perhaps because of- his worry he stepped up to Sebastian and wrapped an arm around his back, so they were chest-to-chest. His other hand rested on Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian turned his head to the side, away from Jim's face, and Jim could sense the carefully controlled anger in him. It was difficult to ignore his first instinct, which was to lash out violently at the rejection.

"I need you to do this for me, baby," he murmured oh-so gently, brushing his lips over Sebastian's jaw. "It's off the clock. Personal. You're the only one I can trust." That was true enough. “I need you to trust me in return.”

He tasted sweet victory when Sebastian's arms came around him, drawing him closer. "I know it's dangerous, but I have to take care of this, Sebastian." Death threats, while quite effective motivators, were entirely unnecessary where Sebastian was concerned. Jim had far stronger incentive to apply. "Do it because you love me," he wheedled softly.

Sebastian relaxed entirely in his arms and sighed deeply. “All right," he said against Jim's temple. "I will. Anything."

"Thank you so much, baby," Jim said, glad now that Sebastian wasn't looking at him to see the roguish grin cross his face.

OMG... Such an awesome plot! And so well-written!

Re: You Were My First - Part 2c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-13 14:04 (UTC) - Expand

Re: You Were My First - Part 2c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-13 10:49 (UTC) - Expand

Re: You Were My First - Part 2c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-13 14:06 (UTC) - Expand

Re: You Were My First - Part 2c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-13 20:08 (UTC) - Expand

Re: You Were My First - Part 2c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-13 22:58 (UTC) - Expand

Re: You Were My First - Part 2c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-13 20:43 (UTC) - Expand

Re: You Were My First - Part 2c/5

(Anonymous) - 2014-08-13 23:43 (UTC) - Expand

"Fuuuuck," Jim exhaled slowly as Sebastian's lips wrapped around the tip of his cock while one of his hands rolled the foreskin down exposing the head so that he could traced random patterns across the glans with his tongue. Jim's breath stuttered and he drifted his hands across his torso, flicking at his own nipples until they were hard nubs. His skin and hair were still damp from his shower as he'd barely had time to towel off before Sebastian had been upon him. Nearly a month of unintended celibacy had left him highly receptive to every little touch.

Sebastian pulled off for a moment and jacked him slowly as he licked his wet lips, eyes gleaming in the lamplight Sebastian had insisted upon leaving on. “C'mon, no teasing,” Jim complained half-heartedly, voice too husky to bear much weight as Sebastian bent his head and lapped up the small beads of pre-ejaculate already oozing from his meatus.

Jim let his head fall back against the pillow with an aggravated groan as Sebastian continued to ignore him in favour of pulling Jim's foreskin back over the sensitive head of his penis and gently smoothing his palm over it.

Jim reached down blindly and cupped the back of Sebastian's head, wanting desperately to give an insistent tug to his blond hair. Unfortunately, Sebastian had gotten a buzzcut several weeks ago and the follicles hadn't yet grown long enough to grasp. Jim compromised by rubbing firm circles into the nape of Sebastian's neck with his fingertips.

Sebastian hummed his approval before taking Jim inside his blessedly hot, wet mouth, sinking down until his entire cock was lodged in his throat. Jim gasped and curled his toes, hips moving in restless grinding circles as he fought the urge to thrust. But when Sebastian began moving up and down -throat constricting deliciously in long, languid swallows- Jim couldn't hold back. He pushed his hips up hard and pulled Sebastian's head down at the same time until his prick was buried and Sebastian's nose was nestled in his closely trimmed pubic hair.

After a small huff of exasperation, Sebastian relaxed and let Jim fuck his throat. Jim did just that for several glorious minutes, albeit slowly, not wishing to damage his throat but relishing the wet half-choked noises Sebastian made on every inward thrust. He kept gong until he felt an urgent heat pool in his abdomen and harden his prick even further. He dug his nails lightly into Sebastian's scalp in warning, not wanting to come before the real fun began.

Sebastian popped off at once. A thin thread of saliva briefly connected his tongue to the head of Jim's cock. Jim inhaled sharply at the sight and heat coiled low in his belly. Sebastian gave his own prick several rough tugs, lower lip blanched between his teeth as his eyes roamed greedily over Jim's body.

“Come here,” Jim demanded, opening his arms.

Sebastian settled over him at once and captured his lips. Jim smiled at his blatant eagerness and reached between their bodies to stroke Sebastian's cock slowly, content just to kiss for a bit.
Sebastian detached himself from Jim's mouth far too soon for his liking however, and kissed along his jaw, nipping lightly every now and then. Jim tilted his head back in reluctant acquiescence and released Sebastian's cock to run both his hands across Sebastian's bare back, kneading muscles and tracing the familiar indents and ridges of old scars.

“Can I fuck you tonight?” Sebastian asked before sucking Jim's earlobe into his mouth and worrying it with his teeth.

Jim hesitated a moment, uncertain, before nodding his consent.

“Yes,” he practically whispered.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Sebastian said, scraping his teeth over Jim's Adam's apple.

“I already said yes,” Jim huffed, even though his heart was racing and Sebastian's not-insubstantial weight pressing him into the mattress was becoming less welcome by the second.

Sebastian kissed him again and Jim could feel the smile against his lips. “Hands and knees?”

“No, uh, I wanna stay like this — for now.”

Sebastian nodded and kissed way down Jim's body, paying particular attention to Jim's clavicle and nipples, teasing them with his tongue and light scrapes of his teeth. When Sebastian reached his pelvis he shoved gently at Jim's thighs. Jim -getting the memo- obediently hooked his elbows around his knees and pulled them close to his chest, exposing his body to Sebastian's whims. A small 'mmmm' of pleasure issued from his throat as his thighs brushed his hard nipples.

"That's perfect, Jim," Sebastian murmured breathlessly, kissing the base of his cock almost apologetically and rolling his testicles in one of his large palms before sucking one whole into his mouth.

A whimper -a legit whimper- worked its way out of Jim's throat at the unexpected action. He may as well have received a well-placed blow to the solar plexus, his breath shuddered out of his body so quickly. That was new. That was very new. A drop of unease travelled to Jim's stomach and he licked his lips nervously, finally breathing again when Sebastian gave the gentlest of tugs and let it fall from his mouth.

"Is this okay?" Sebastian asked eagerly. He looked far too happy with himself.

"Yeah... more than okay," Jim gasped, even though he wasn't positive. He didn't have a heart, but even so, he couldn't bring himself to tell Sebastian to stop. It was obviously something he'd been practising especially to please Jim. "Do the other one."

Sebastian smiled wickedly and gave his other testicle the same careful treatment, taking the entirety of it into his mouth and caressing it with the flat of his tongue. Jim bit his lower lip as tension of a less pleasant sort took the place of his arousal. What the fuck was wrong with him? It felt incredible, yet...

Before he could voice his discomfort, Sebastian had moved on. An inadvertent ah escaped his lips as Sebastian's tongue flicked over his arsehole. He usually loved rimming –his favourite kind of foreplay in all honesty– but that knot of nervous tension only grew tighter.

Sebastian, for once unaware of the war raging in Jim's head and body, spread him open further, tongue sliding a coy route along his perineum then back to his hole. Jim tilted his head to the side, regarding the worn spines of the Philip K. Dick novels stacked on Sebastian's side of the bed. His damp hair clung to his face. He read the titles over and over to prevent himself from bursting into a full-scale panic attack. I can control this. I am in control.

He couldn't stop him in the middle of things. Sebastian would know why.

With the threat of imminent shame looming over him, Jim forced his body to remain lax as Sebastian dipped a forefinger coated with lubricant inside of him teasingly, then inserted his middle finger as well. "I think you're ready for my cock," Sebastian chuckled.

But when Sebastian positioned himself between Jim's thighs and pressed his slicked cock to Jim's hole, the terror burst free violently. With a sharp protest he sat up and lashed out, fist connecting with Sebastian's shoulder with a meaty thud, sending him reeling off their bed. "Don't!" he shouted.

He rolled over and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and hugging them close. Jim realized he was shuddering, loosing rapid breaths between his clenched teeth. The slick openness of his body was deeply unpleasant and demeaning now as opposed to sexy. His cock was entirely flaccid.

"Do you want me to go?" Sebastian asked quietly, like Jim was a wounded animal that needed comforting; he hated him for that. The last person to see Jim like this... well... she hadn't lived long enough to spread rumours. But it was Sebastian. Jim couldn't resort to that this time, could he?

"If you wouldn't mind," Jim said in a more calm tone of voice. He sounded bored in the extreme, which was excellent. But it didn't matter. Sebastian was looking at him. Really looking, as though he'd stripped away Jim's flesh and could now examine his secrets at his leisure. "Please, just leave." He sounded like a sullen teenager, but it was preferable to sounding broken.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Sebastian said, walking carefully around to his side of the bed and grabbing a pillow and the book on top of the pile. He didn't ask Jim what had happened. He didn't look angry or scared; only very tired. He snatched up his pants from the floor as he made to stride from the room.

"Sebastian," Jim said, causing him to halt in his tracks. "Get Green for me. I need to finish it." He felt if he could just get his hands on the man and do what was necessary everything would be fine again, for always. Green's friends whom had participated didn't matter, just him.

Jim wasn't afraid of pain, nor was he afraid of dying, but he was afraid of being made to feel small. And he felt incredibly small as Sebastian stared him with those brand-new x-ray eyes he seemed to have acquired, trying to make sense of Jim's current state.

“Give me two more days,” Sebastian said before leaving.

~*~
1984

Jim listened with keen ears from his bedroom as his parents shouts echoed through the house. He looked down at his grammar homework, pencil suspended over the sheets as the words blurred before his eyes. His father's voice was gruffer than normal with resentment and his mother's hysterical and wavering. They probably didn't even realise how loud they were being.

“-have to talk to someone, Arthur! We both know he's responsible and it's time that he owned up to it!”

Jim's dad's voice was deceptively calmer, but Jim could imagine the red flush staining his face and neck very well as he answered. “Would you have him expelled? Is that what you want?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she snapped. “And if it's anyone's fault, it's yours,” she added spitefully.

“I'm not going to punish the boy for defending himself.”

“Defending isn't the word I'd have chosen.” Her voice had drifted back to Cork and her tone grown suddenly softer. “There's something wrong with him, Arthur. He's not...”

“Not what, exactly? Are you trying to imply that he's retarded or something? Because, judging from his test scores that's very far from the case.”

“You know that's not what I meant,” she said coldly.

He sighed heavily. “Hughes is going to be back in class next week. No lasting harm done. Why can't you just let it go?”

“He needs to own up to what he did, apologise, and then we need to find a counsellor or therapist... or, or someone who knows how to deal with this sort of behaviour.”

“Absolutely not,” he said bluntly. “He already has a hard enough time as it is without the other students thinking he's even more of a freak.”

Jim flushed angrily and let his pencil drop to his desk. It rolled off onto the floor where he made no move to pick it up.

His mum laughed humourlessly. “I don't care what you want. He needs help, and frankly we do too.”

Before his dad had a chance to reply, Jim heard the front door slam. He watched from his window as she walked briskly down the pavement, probably on the way to her sisters. Jim felt resentfully impressed; it was a rare occurrence indeed when she stood up to his father.

When his dad called him to dinner an hour later, neither of them mentioned Sean Hughes or the argument that had taken place. Throughout dinner Jim feigned ignorance easily enough, prattling on annoyingly about the lessons he'd had that day while his dad chewed robotically at his food. His dad nodded and hmmm'd every time Jim paused to draw breath, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. When Jim rose to clean the dishes, he didn't think his dad saw him at all.

By the time Jim went to bed, his mum still hadn't returned.

You Were My First - Part 3d/5

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Re: You Were My First - Part 3d/5

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Mycroft Holmes was closing in, which meant that Sherlock's demise was nearer. Everything was going perfectly, just as Jim had planned it. He should have been exultingly ecstatic instead of so frustrated he felt like he was going to scream.

When he reached his flat he stripped off his coat and tossed it to the floor, slamming the door behind him. He was tense, angry and prepared to lash out at the nearest target... which would probably be a lamp, unfortunately for his fists, as Sebastian wasn't likely to be there.

When Jim had gotten up the morning after things had gone... so awry, Sebastian had been gone. Jim had tried calling him once, but Sebastian hadn't picked up his mobile. In fact, he hadn't been home for almost three entire days. Yesterday evening (the end of Sebastian's second day of absence) Jim had reached the conclusion that Sebastian had to be dealt with. About time anyway. Jim wasn't long for the world himself, and he detested being abandoned.

He was so cross with the world that he nearly missed the signs: the faint musky scent of Sebastian's cologne, freshly ground coffee wafting from the kitchen. Jim paused in the foyer, hand jumping automatically for the gun he kept in the waistband of his trousers, listening hard.

Not a peep.

That didn't mean anything though. Still, Jim doubted it was a trap; Sebastian was too clever by half to make his presence so blatantly known if he was intending to kill you. It was one of his many charms.
Even with that in mind, Jim stalked into the living room, prepared for the worst.

After his abrupt and silent absence, seeing Sebastian standing casually in their living room as though he'd never left was immensely disconcerting. Sebastian didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the dark look Jim was giving was him. He just continued grinning from ear to ear as if he'd won the bloody lottery and rotating the mug of coffee in his hands when he should have been drinking it.

"What are you doing here?" Jim asked dourly.

Sebastian was clearly unruffled by the sour reception. “Miss me?” he asked sweetly, eyes crinkling in the corners.

That would have been it, his last fucking words, if Jim hadn’t detected the excitement underlying them; an eagerness that had Sebastian practically shaking in his boots. It seemed to be vibrating just beneath his skin.

“Not really,” Jim fibbed, finding the butt of his pistol with his fingertips. “And you didn't answer my question. Why’ve you even bothered returning?”

A genuine smile flitted over Sebastian's face and he set his mug on the coffee table. “I found him, Jim. It took a bit, but I got him for you.”

Jm didn't have to ask whom he was referring to. “You didn't really,” he gasped, heart missing a beat. The hand that had been inching around his gun dropped to his side dumbly. “Where is he?”

“Bathroom,” Sebastian tilted his head in that direction. “Smells like fear and piss in there.”

Jim’s heart rate kicked up a notch, and his angry, depressed, murderous mood vanished. It was replaced by a shot of fierce joy. He shouldered past Sebastian and walked slowly down the hall, stopping before the closed restroom door. He could hear labored nasal breathing intermixed with muffled sobs.

Instead of entering immediately, he waited as his mind darted in approximately several hundred directions. Finally, he concluded that it would be best to go with the simplest idea.

He waltzed to the kitchen, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the sleeves up past his elbows. Sebastian trailed after him at relatively polite distance, watching his every action with great curiously. Perhaps he was waiting for his punishment.

Jim pulled out his pistol and dropped it on the counter with a metallic clack, before opening the cutlery drawer and selecting a short, gleaming blade that had been sharpened to perfection. Sebastian was always anal about preventing the knives from dulling, and Jim was grateful for once.

“I have more sophisticated tools if you want them,” Sebastian said, voice wavering peculiarly.

“This suits me fine,” Jim said coldly, still angry with him.

“Right", Sebastian breathed. A beat of silence. “Can I watch?”

Jim looked up sharply at the unexpected request, perceiving Sebastian's red cheeks and the growing bulge in his jeans with interest. “Why not? Just don't interrupt me. And if you make any noise at all, you'll regret it. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian said, with no hint of sarcasm.

Jim nodded and slid past him, mind fixed firmly on the coming hours.

***

With his face swollen and wet from tears, Green wasn’t nearly as handsome as Jim remembered.. He felt, however, that the duct tape binding his ankles, wrists and mouth added a certain irresistible element that had been lacking before.

As Sebastian gingerly seated himself on the edge of the bathtub, Jim hauled Green off the floor and deposited him atop the toilet. On a whim he captured one of Green’s tears with his index finger, watching it glisten against his skin.

He smeared it away a second later, and brought the knife to Green’s button-up, popping the fastenings off one at a time. Green began sobbing afesh, pleading with Jim roughly through the tape, making oh so many promises and threats.

Jim kept shushing him until the last button fell to the tiles. He spread open Green’s shirt, revealing a deeply tanned, toned chest. Jim hummed with pleasure, circling one of Green’s pink nipples with the tip of his knife. Green’s entire body trembled and a wordless whimper escaped his throat.

He pressed lightly; just enough to draw a bead of blood. “You deserve this, you know that.”

Green shook his head in denial, eyes spookily wide.

Jim dug in harder, until flesh parted and there was a thin rivulet of scarlet trailing down Green’s perfect, hairless torso. Green screamed behind the tape.

Before the real fun began, Jim looked at Sebastian to see how he was reacting.

Sebastian was watching the two of them with heavy-lidded eyes. One hand was braced on the edge of the tub, while the other was busy kneading himself through his jeans.

All the years they'd known each other, and Jim had never suspected this, but he sure did like surprises.

With renewed hunger, he turned his attention once more to Green.

~*~
1984

Jim virtually quivered with nervous anticipation as his dad’s headlights flashed through the lace curtains, sending alien shadows skittering across the walls. Clarissa, his airy-headed sitter, was watching some mindless program on the telly as opposed to finishing her school work. Jim pretended to be doing his own.

His father entered the house looking tired, but content as usual. Jim gave him a falsely cheery “hey, dad!” before finishing up his long division with bored ease. He waited patiently while his dad dismissed Carissa for the night and went to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

A few minutes later his father thumped back onto the couch and began flipping through channels, halting on the depressing disarray that was the news. “Where’s you're ma?” he asked, taking a sip of the amber liquid.

Jim’s throat was so clogged with fear and delight that he almost couldn't speak. “Aunt Lexi’s. She said she’d be back around nine.”

His dad hummed acknowledgment of his words and they lapsed into silence.

Fifteen minutes passed as Jim pretended to be immersed in studying, and his father slowly sipped away his life.

Jim finally set his pencil aside when he heard his father plunk the empty liquor glass on the coffee table. He gazed across the room at his father and asked, seemingly apropos of nothing: “Why did you hurt mum?”

Something like guilt twisted his dad’s features as he blinked at Jim. “What do you mean? I‘d never hurt your mother. I love her.” His voice was overflowing with sincerity, but his eyes were less convincing.

“I saw you two the other night,” Jim said slyly, rubbing circles on the arms of his chair with his thumbs.

“Saw what, exactly?” his dad asked, voice dangerously blank.

Jim grimaced, shrugged.

“Stuff,” he muttered, playing dumb.

They stared each other down, but Jim had no intention of losing. He kept eye contact until his father lowered his gaze.

“Sometimes, when adults get angry, things happen that are later regretted. Like how you took care of that bully in your class.”

“It’s not the same,” Jim insisted angrily. “You deserve to die.”

That was when he noticed the signs: the sweat on his father’s upper lip and the dilaton of his pupils. Very intriguing. Theoretical knowledge and firsthand experience were utterly different. He almost forgot why he was angry.

“James, don’t say things like that.” The hurt in his voice was real and that made Jim more irate.

“You're going to die,” Jim promised.

For the first time, his father looked afraid of him; it was usually his mother that graced him with that expression of utter terror.

“Finish your homework upstairs,” he commanded, voice booming and panicky. “Now.”

Jim smirked and did as he was told, then sat up in bed watching the clock and playing an old Bee Gees record. Waiting.

Re: You Were My First - Part 4c/5

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Re: You Were My First - Part 4c/5

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Sebastian's unusually vocal cries and Jim's harsh grunts intermingled with the wet slap of flesh-on-flesh and the squelch of hastily applied lube, weaving their very own lewd, discordant symphony. Staccato grunts reverberated through the flat as Jim pummelled into Sebastian’s body at a rapid pace. He'd never fucked, nor been fucked, this hard, and he could count on a single hand the number of times he'd topped Sebastian. But that night had been a night for exceptions and Sebastian had been practically begging for it.

Daniel Green's mutilated carcass was still sprawled in the loo, and every time Jim closed his eyes, the agony he'd caused Green replayed in his mind’s eye. Exquisite.

"Take it, take itJim gritted through clenched teeth, reaming into Sebastian impossibly harder. His belt jangled with every movement, spanking the backs of Sebastian’s thighs, probably leaving welts.

Sebastian clung to the island as best he could, attempting to bite back his cries now. His sweaty hands slipped for purchase on the marble as Jim pummelled out a month’s worth of tension.

Bloody hand prints littered Sebastian’s clothing and bare skin from where Jim had touched him; there were twin marks from where he'd clasped Sebastian’s pelvis. Now he simply clutched handfuls of Sebastian’s shirt, using the hold to drag Sebastian back into his thrusts. He had to be hurting by now, but he didn’t ask Jim to slow down or stop. He knew that Jim would stop if he asked, right?

With that disquieting uncertainty suddenly foremost in his thoughts, Jim slowed his pace and reached between Sebastian’s legs, stroking the reassuring hardness he found there. Sebastian moaned softly at the contact, and it sounded pained. He moved his hips restlessly, trying to fuck his cock through Jim’s fist.

“You like this, huh? Like me fucking you this hard?”

“Yes,” Sebastian groaned thickly, hole clamping around Jim's length as his prick was fondled and stroked.

Jim released his cock and reached instead for his scrotum.

Sebastian's testicles were drawn tightly to his body and he made a small noise of protest when Jim tugged gently on them.

“Need to come,” Sebastian gasped, moving restlessly to-and-fro. “C'mon, Jim.”

All of Sebastian's assertiveness had deteriorated in the bathroom as Jim had made Green sing for him, and he'd grown increasingly fidgety as Jim had taken his sweet time working Green over. Jim went back to stroking his cock, smiling at Sebastian's murmured sound of relief. It was intoxicating, this power. Jim hadn't been able to resist dragging Sebastian to the kitchen and bending him over the island.

Rather than resuming his break-neck pace, Jim tilted his hips and thrust into Sebastian with deep, rolling grinds, slow enough to drive himself mad with how excruciatingly good it felt.

He stroked Sebastian's cock in tandem with his thrusts and soon felt Sebastian quake beneath him, spine arching. His prick hardened further in Jim's grasp just before hot, viscous semen slicked his hand. A low, almost indecipherable moan penetrated the air as Sebastian came, pushing helplessly through Jim's tight fist.

Jim gasped as Sebastian spasmed around his cock and continued thrusting into that over-sensitive orifice until his own release coated Sebastian's insides. He fastened his teeth hard into Sebastian's shoulder, drawing a pained grunt from him. But Sebastian kept absolutely still, letting Jim ride out his orgasm without complaint.

After the last spurt of ejaculate was released, Jim draped himself over Sebastian's back for a minute, panting heavily against his neck as his prick softened in Sebastian's arse. When he'd got his breath back he pressed tender kisses to the damp skin, nuzzling Sebastian's hairline and whispering nonsensical sentiments against his flesh.

When things became almost painfully sensitive, Jim pulled free from the clutch of Sebastian's arsehole with a faint, wet sound. He kept a firm hand on Sebastian's lower back, however, to keep him in place while Jim pulled up his own pants and trousers and tucked his soft prick away.

On an impulse he used his thumb and forefinger to draw Sebastian's cheeks apart and watched with interest as his come dribbled from Sebastian's still red and gaping arsehole. His cock gave a valiant twitch at the sight, but really, there was not a fucking chance.

Jim finally released him, stepping back and admiring the red streaks he'd left upon Sebastian's buttocks and thighs. He wondered if they'd bruise.

“Take care of the body,” he said evenly to Sebastian's nearly motionless form, suddenly businesslike. “And clean this up.”

He left the room and made for his office. He locked the door behind himself and proceeded to collapse onto the chair in front of his desk, pressing his palms to his mouth to smother the hysterical laughter that bubbled out of his throat.

~*~
1984

Jim was in serious danger of nodding off when at last, he heard the faintest jangle of keys and the creak of the front door. His head, which had been steadily drooping towards his chest, snapped up and his previously fluttering eyelids were now resolutely open.

Quiet steps in the foyer, followed by another indistinct jingle as she hung her keys on the hook. Even her footsteps sounded timid to Jim's ears as she crept around, always wary of disturbing her husband.

He glanced at his clock. It was almost one in the morning, he noted with fearful excitement. Things had to have taken effect by then. He heard her drifting down the hall to her bedroom. She didn't stop to look in on him for once, choosing to overlook the light issuing from under his closed door.

Will she notice straight off? he wondered. She had to. She wasn't that dense.

He listened hard, gnawing his lower lip and plucking at his blanket. Bare minutes had passed when he heard rustling and the screech of his parent's mattress as she climbed into bed.

The screeching of bedsprings resumed again, louder and more urgent this time, accompanied by many gasped reiterations of his father's name. Jim's temples throbbed and his fingers twitched. He desperately wanted to see her reaction, but forced himself to sit quietly and wait. She would need her privacy.

After less than a minute the noises ceased and the utter silence that followed seemed to engulf the house. Jim dared breathe once more, waiting for what would surely come next...

But no wailing scream ripped through the night; no heart-rending sobs echoed through the house, nor even –he thought foolishly– whoops of joy. The silence, which should have been rife with possibilities, now felt unnerving and dodgy as it stretched longer.

As the time drifted towards one-thirty Jim's apprehension melted steadily to a harsh, nonsensical anger borne from deep impatience. What was taking her so long? She wasn't trying to protect him, was she? He hated waiting on tenterhooks for things to happen when he wanted the instantaneous satisfaction of seeing what his actions had wrought.

He jumped out of bed, keyed up and restless, on the verge of bustling to their room to see what the hold-up was, when he detected a shuffling tread heading down the hall. It had to be his mother – anyone else would have set the floorboards creaking like mad. He paused in the centre of his room, standing as tall as he was able. He was unsurprised when the steps halted outside his door.

Jim prepared himself to feign surprise when she brought him the news, though he still didn't know if he could pull off crying on queue. The knob turned and the door swung inward. There was no storm of tears or a gently whispered, 'Jim'. She stood beneath the frame, starting only a little to see him standing there waiting for her. Her skin was stained gold by the yellow light radiating from Jim's lamp, framed eerily against the shadowy hallway.

She walked inside without a word, floral skirt floating around her ankles. Her visage was drawn and blank; even her usually pink lips had turned pale. Jim felt a stab of misgiving and worked hard not to take a step away from her as the triumphant emotions that had been accumulating inside of him crumbled.

“Mum,” he began, bracing himself to play dewy-eyed innocence.

She spoke before he'd even formulated his first sentence, voice devoid of emotion. “Why did you do this, Jim? Please, tell me. Help me understand.” Her brown eyes, so like his own, were locked on his face and seemed to burrow into his brain.

“I don't understand,” he lied pathetically. “Mum, what's happened?”

Instead of answering verbally, he features contorted and she lunged at him. Her left hand flashed out, palm connecting to the right side of his face with a meaty smack.

Jim's head snapped to the side and he reeled backwards on his heels from the force of the blow. Blood flooded his mouth and trickled down his chin. His face throbbed where she'd struck him. Neither of his parents had ever hit him, and he felt the pain with interest and resentment.

Then she was kneeing in front of him, cheeks and eyes flaming. She grasped his shoulders, fingernails digging down to the bone like talons, leaving bruises.

“Why?” she repeated. “I know you did it. Arthur would never've-”

“I didn't do anything,” Jim spat, glaring.

Her eyes narrowed and she shook him violently.

“Stoplying to me,” she hissed with a bitten-off sob. “Just stop it, now. Please.” Her voice wavered to something barely above a whisper.

Jim gazed at her distraught face, gauging what he could and shouldn't tell her.

“He deserved it,” Jim muttered eventually, the truth spilling forth despite his reservations. He was just so tired people acting like everything bad that happened was his fault.

“How could he possibly have deserved this?” Her voice held less fire now. Her chin trembled but her eyes remained clear, unblinking.

“Last Tuesday,” Jim said, recalling that night with undiminished anger. “I saw what he did to you.”

Tears filled her eyes then, and she stared at him like he was a particularly difficult calculus equation. The tears trickled down her cheeks and something within her appeared to break.

Suddenly she pulled him into an embrace, clutching him hard to her chest, arms folding around his back. Her face was buried in the junction between shoulder and neck. Her frame quavered and tears wet his skin as she sobbed quietly into his shoulder. He was engulfed by the scent of olive oil in her hair and her floral perfume.

Jim's arms hung limply at his sides as she squeezed him, breasts rising and falling rapidly against his chest. He felt nauseous at the display of sorrow, and was grateful she couldn't see his grimace of revulsion. He patted her back gently, hoping she'd finish weeping soon. She should have been happy and popping a bottle of champagne, not... like this.

At length she released him, wiping her face shakily with the backs of her hands and sniffling. Jim patted her forearm awkwardly.

After many deep, slow breaths, she rose fluidly from her cramped kneeling position. Though her face and eyes were red and puffy, she looked determined. When she held out a hand to him, he regarded it warily.

“C'mon, James,” she goaded. “We have to get you cleaned up.”

He didn't hold her hand, but he followed her to the bathroom and allowed her to clean out the blood from his mouth and face.

“I'm going to call an ambulance,” she informed him, scrubbing at the dried blood on his chin, fingers ghosting apologetically over the cheek she'd slapped. “I want you to go to bed and pretend you've been sleeping the entire night. Ya got me?”

She doesn't look afraid of him anymore. In fact, he couldn't read her expression at all. It was Jim's turn to feel unsettled by her. He simply nodded, and she ruffled his hair.

“We'll get through this together, Jim. Everything'll work out,” she promised, eyes steely. Then she leaned in and kissed his forehead.

He returned to bed shortly, and his mum flicked off the light, shrouding the room in darkness. Jim lay on his back and stared out his window at the winking stars and drifting clouds, waiting patiently for the sound of sirens.

~*~

Re: You Were My First - Part 5d/5

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