I am not dead, are you? (SherlockXMoriarty PostRBF)

"It feels... odd," he muttered, and writhed against the other, the water keeping him up a bit as he straddled Jim's hips.

His eyes moved to meet the other's eyes: "I need more," he admitted, his hips were moving softly, meeting the other's finger. "But... rgh... maybe we should wait..." He knew there was no turning back if Jim fucked him.

"You just need to adjust to the feeling." he replied, smiling slightly at sherlock. He knew it wasn't the most pleasurable feeling right now, but it will be once he was used to it.

He slipped his finger in deeper everything he moved about, until he found himself all the way in. Once more he kept still a few second before starting to continue his movement again.

His other hand was now playing with sherlock's tip. His finger circling over the most sensitive area.

"Wait?" He frowned. He didn't want to wait any longer despite the fact he decided to take things one step at a time. "Wait for what?"

Sherlock was helplessly cuddled around Jim, his fingers playing restlessly with the hair at the back of Jim's head as he adjusted to the feeling of his finger inside him.

"You said... we need... condoms..." he whispered, and looked up at the sky. It was rather surreal to be in such an intimate situation outside.

"And... and... I am a bit scared..." he admitted, even though his body was pushing against Jim's hand needily. "What's going to happen once I give you the last thing I have?"

"Yes, we need condoms." He shrugged. If that was the only problem things weren't that complicated after all. But knowing Sherlock, it wasn't.

He listened to the detective's words carefully and smiled once he asked that question.
"Well..." He said in a high, playful voice. "Than I will cut your throat and leave you bleeding to dead on a bed of roses." With a grin on his face he looked into Sherlock's eyes, clearly noticing the other man's annoyance.

Well, what did Sherlock expect him to say? He'd only fall in love /more?/ He'd be head over heels? Enchanted? His feelings would only become more fierce, grow stronger. His intentions weren't as nefarious as Sherlock was thinking.

Finger now eagerly moving against Sherlock's sensitive spot. He could feel Sherlock's heartbeat against his chest, it was fast, just like his own. His other hands gently stroking his length. Sherlock's body was ready, now all that's left is to convince his complex mind.

Sherlock groaned at the reply, it really didn't help his insecurity one bit.
"I never get a straight answer out of you," he protested, his eyes closing in exhaution.

"It's become too hot here... I really feel dizzy," he admitted, shaking a bit for the feelings that rushed through his body, Jim's hands felt like they were all over his most sensitive places. "How long have we been here?" he tilted his head up, trying to take in more oxygen.

"You know what I'm like." He shrugged once more. He pulled back his finger and removed himself from Sherlock's lap.

It wasn't until now he realised how long they must have been there. "I lost track of time." He admitted. He had been so relaxed and calm, he didn't care about time.

"Do you want to go?" He asked, already knowing the answer, he hopped on to the edge of the bath tub. The cold air hit him straight away sending a shiver through his body.

"I don't particularly appreciate that part of your personality, it aggravates me," he said in reply and whimpered when he felt James pulling away.
Bloody hell he felt empty now.

"It's better we move yes, I feel I am dehydrated now," he admitted and grabbed Jim's arm before he could move too far, he needed help to stand up.
He was really dizzy and weak.
He remembered now there had been a warning, that one shouldn't stay in the bath more than a half an hour, especially if used to having low pressure.
He could not believe he had forgotten something, Jim was having quite a bad effect on his brain.

"Sherlock?" He said concerned as he supported him to get up.
Once he hopped over the edge, he leaded Sherlock out of the tub as well.
He shivered being exposed to the cold air for so long.
Sherlock was pale and his knees showed to be weak. "What's wrong?"

It wasn't until now he realised /how much/ he cared about this man.
Perhaps it was just a little nauseousness, but he still felt an ache in his chest.
Concern, fear something would be wrong with Sherlock. Even he never felt anything like this before.

Sherlock gingerly clung to Jim's arm, he could hardly keep himself up on his own. He didn't really feel the cold.
"I... am not sure..." he said, and tried to think, his logic going slower than usual.

"I think... physical exhaustion seems the case... the heat, the feelings, dehydration, malnourishment, John used to be the one taking care of food..." he thought out loud.

"I'll be fine," he said, he just needed to sit down, or lay down, or eat something, or drink something.
God, he had no idea at the moment.

In a rush of panic he looked around. "Stay..nevermind" he said, knowing that Sherlock wasn't able to go anywhere. Saying he had to stay there, how ridiculous. He ran over to their changing cabin grabbing both their towels and reached for the phone that was in there.

"Come on..." He spoke impatiently to himself as he waited for the staff to pick up.
"Yes.. Mr. Moriarty here. Could we please get our lunch? We're done bathing. Yes. Fine. Thanks." He didn't even put the phone back into the holder. He quickly wrapped the towel around him before running back to Sherlock who, paler as ever, sat leaning against the bath tub wall.

"Hey..." He cupped Sherlock's face, his eyes were rolling sometimes. "Food will be here in 5 minutes, okay?" He spoke slow and clear. He knew getting up and leaving to their room now wasn't an option, Sherlock needed to get back in shape first. Not sure whether eating something would work, if not he couldn't do anything else but call emergency services. Or at least the hotel doctor.

He covered Sherlock up with the towel and looked at him, pain and empathy flickering in his eyes. After 5 long minutes their lunch arrived. He quickly nodded at the woman who brought it to the other door. "Thanks." He mumbled before making her leave again.
He took a plate and looked at everything they got. "Something with a lot of salt and sugar in it..." He talked out loud, not sure what was causing Sherlock's nauseousness.

Sherlock was looking at the sky, his skin felt strangely tight, and he knew he was supposed to feel cold. He felt much better now that he was out of the water though.

He focused on Jim as he came back and nodded: "I'll be fine," he repeated, he had just been way too stupid. It was quite distressing to see Moriarty so worried.
"Do they have fruit? It's easy and quick to digest," he said, and swallowed hard. "Some water would be nice as well.."

Jim just took whatever he thought might be useful, grapes, bananas, strawberries, bread, cheese... And a glass of water, just as Sherlock asked.
He knelt down in front of his. Concern still visible in his dark eyes.
"Here." He spoke with a gentle voice.

He sat down next to Sherlock, monitoring him as he started to eat. With a deep in and exhale he tried to calm himself down.
Why did he reacted so panicky in the first place? It wasn't much like him and it surely was over acted. It made him smile a little to himself and he quickly removed his gaze from Sherlock, hoping his behavior didn't freak him out somehow.

Sherlock drank the water quickly, and his feelings already normalized slightly. He began to feel a bit cold as he started to eat, the movement languid, but careful.

"Mm... I think we should go back to our room... it's freezing out here," he said after a while, and motioned to stand up.

He was still rather shaky, but he managed. "Sorry... I did not mean to make you worry..." he said, looking at Jim with embarrassment. "I have a bit of low pressure..."

"Perhaps that's the best idea, yes." He helped Sherlock up, still a bit worried. The feeling that had played up in his chest earlier was starting to fade. He now knew it had all been a bit overrated.

"It... It's okay." He shrugged with a weak smile on his face. "I'm sorry as well.. I... I overacted." He felt his cheeks flushing red and quickly looked at his feet. "Shall we?" He murmured.

Sherlock shook his head, leaning a bit against Jim's side. "You did well. It's good you acted fast... didn't want to faint on you," he said, and turned his head slightly, kissing the other man's temple.

"It would be good for me to lay down a bit, so yes, let's go..." he looked at himself. "We need clothes..." he pointed out with a blush. "I think there are robes in the changing room..."

Sherlock's lips against his skin felt calming. He smiled as he walked back to the changing cabin, his towel still wrapped around him.

He wrapped an arm around Sherlock's middle, both for support and other just for being close to him. "Come on than" He said while he brought both of them into motion. He opened the door for Sherlock, looking around for any robes. "Ah, here we are." He said, while handing one over and putting his own on.

Sherlock took the robe and slid into it, soon tying it around his chest. Inside the changing room the temperature was much better, it was nice.

"You can be... very caring. I am surprised," he admitted, looking at Jim sideways for a moment before motioning to the door. He'd had enough of bathrooms, he wanted the room, he wanted his bed and Jim close to him.


((I miss our John and Jim it's weird to have to reply to only one thing XDD ))

Once again he felt blood rushing towards his cheeks and a warmth overwhelmed him. Stupid blushing, he hated blushing. His feet awkwardly shifting around. "I eh.." Lost for a decent reply he showed his red cheeks, hoping Sherlock would take quittance with that.

He followed Sherlock out, walking up close and grabbing his hand. By now Sherlock wouldn't make a problem of it anyway. He followed him back to the room, Sherlock was clearly already getting better.


((I KNOW RIGHT It's urgh...I really liked that RP!))

Sherlock looked down at Jim's hand as it found his, he still wasn't used to this, but he liked it, he liked it a lot. "Is it a bad thing? To be... caring?" he asked, he knew he was never really that way, it was more like people always had to take care of him instead, for better or for worse.

He felt strangely relieved when they reached their door, he was still rather weak, and he didn't walk very straight, but he was visibly better, colour back on his skin.

((Me too!! It was oh so exciting! And I think the plot rocks~ it could be a fic! ))
((Maybe we should come up with another RP XD with another interesting plot ))

Moriarty sighed deep, thinking and deliberating on words to use as an answer. "Caring can be destructive, when you overdo it. Such as everything else." He paused for a second. "But if used right, it's the most wonderful thing." With a smile to sherlock he lead him into their room.

As sherlock went sitting down on the bed, jim decided to do the same. Not really thinking about whether or not sherlock would like him around at this very moment.

((Yessss. We totally should! Ermm you want to do smut again or something different this time? ))

Sherlock sat on the bed, he was staring down at his hands, trying to balance himself again.
He thought about what Jim had just said, he didn't understand. Yes, he had cared about John, Mrs Hudson, even Lestrade to a small degree, but he had never been caring with them.
"Do you care for a lot of people?" he asked, he realized he knew very little about Jim at all.

"Do you have family?" he wondered out loud, suddenly, he wanted to know who Jim Moriarty really was.


((You mean there is something else other than smut?? *shock* XDD just joking... I like romance, so I usually plot my things around that, other than that, if it ends up in smut, I like it, but it's not necessary... I have a small idea, if you come to the forum chatroom I can explain?))

For a moment the silence between them became the only ongoing thing. It wasn't awkward or painful, it just felt right. As sherlock question came shooting through it, james was pulled back out of his own thought.

"No.. I don't care about a lot of people. 2 in fact." He pointed out. The only people he did really care about were sebastian moran, his right hand, his whole organisation at this point. And sherlock. He couldn't bring anyone other to mind.

Thinking about his family made his chest ache. He banned them out of his life after numerous family fights. He had an older brother named Peter. He always got away with everything, their parents always put him first. Peter was everything and poor little james was scum. Even thinking about it made him lose himself in anguish. one time a fight between peter and himself got that back, their dad decided to throw james out of the house. He was only 18 but from that point on he decided to turn peter's life into a living hell. Along with his father's, who never believed him, who'd only came out of the sofa to either drink or beat up his mother. they disgusted him.

"No. I don't have family." He quickly lifted himself up from the bed and moved over to the window. Once more he found himself staring over the city skyline. Family was just something he had banned, and brining it up comes along with old feelings. Feelings that had been abandoned, but clearly not forgotten.

(( I am on my phone, not sure if the chat works, but I'll give it try ))

"Two?" he repeated, wondering if he was one of them, and also who was the other one if so. He wished he knew more, he wanted to know everything.

"You know a lot of things about me... courtesy of Mycroft... but I don't know anything about you..." he said, playing with the duvet cover under his fingers. "Other than what I can deduce... which is really little anyway, you always distract me with a different persona, you never really wear your own mask..."

He followed him with his gaze as he stood up, watching his reactions, registering those tiny bits of information.
Slowly he slid back on the bed and laid down, still keeping his eyes on Jim.


((mm, I take it the chat does not work >> will write a private message then ))

"Yes, two." He repeated with a crack in his voice. "You, obviously." He slowly looked over his shoulder to face sherlock. "And Sebastian Moran." He now turned away. "He's like my own John Watson." You could clearly hear he was smiling when he spoke those words.

He swallowed loud. Sherlock was right, he knew everything, about everyone but no one, not even moran, knew anything about him. "I.." Was he really going to tell sherlock what he'd done with his brother? How he made his life a living hell after he was kicked out? And if he did, would sherlock understand? Would he judge him by his own actions? He kept staring out of the window before opening his mouth again. He inhaled deep...

"I have... Had... A brother. Peter. He's 3 years older." He started. "He was beloved by both my parents, the whole family looked up to him." His voice was cold as ice as he opened up about this. "Everything he did was good. Every word he spoke.. They lifted him up to heaven and I" a painful silence fell over him. "I was left in hell. My dad denied I was a son of his. All that bastard did was beating up my poor mother. If she grant me one look, he made sure she couldn't see for the next two weeks." Once again feelings of anguish played inside his chest. He didn't look at sherlock. As if sherlock was even caring.

"When I turned 18, peter and I got in a fight and my father kicked me out of the house." He laughed obnoxious at the next few memories. "I.. I decided to make his life a living hell. - paid some of my friends to. Blow up the mailbox, at first. Later on I paid people to torture him. To make him feel the same pain he'd made me feel 18 years." Jim bit his inner lip. "I killed him." He said cold, knowing he was blowing every spark of sympathy sherlock felt to hell.

But this was jim moriarty, and sherlock wanted to know who he was. Everything he just told, every word, was the foundation for his own network. The very reason he started it.

There was a frown on Sherlock's face as Sebastian Moran was mentioned, he had no idea who that person was, but if he was compared him to John Watson, he had to be very important for Jim. He didn't like that, especially because he used to be in love with John.
Used to?

He had no time to explore those thoughts, because Jim went on talking, and there was much more to process.
"I am impressed," he said once Jim was done talking. "I would have never thought you'd killed anyone for anything other than your personal gain," he said, and his gaze didn't waver as he looked at Jim standing by the window.

"That was revenge, pure anger... I thought psychopaths were not supposed to have feelings..." he said and shook his head. Of course he knew Jim was a killer, unfortunetely he knew about everyone he had killed just to get Sherlock's attention as well.


((did you get my private message? I sent it from John's account >> ))