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

He felt relieved at the fact Sherlock wasn't struggling against his movements, but he had no idea how far he could go with this. James of course, would try and push this as far as he possibly could.

He pulled Sherlock even closer than he already was by pulling on the collar of his shirt. "I'll show you, pretty boy." He said, as he spoke his own lips brushed over Sherlock's.

Pretty Boy?

His mind went on loop.

Was Moriarty flirting with him?

It'd make sense considering their lips just-

He started, pulling back abruptly.

"What is this? What are you doing?" he asked, exasperated.

"This is not a game you usually play," and it was messing with Sherlock's head.
His eyes were wide as he stared at him and he looked much younger than he was.

Oh hot damn Sherlock just get on with it. Moriarty smiled friendly at Sherlock while trying to shush him. He wanted to comfort Sherlock. Just enough so that he at least could sneak a kiss out of him.

"I'm not playing games anymore, silly. I'm dead serious." His hand once more running over the surface of Sherlock's chest. Right, this needed more action if he wanted to convince Sherlock.

In an abrupt motion he spin himself on top of Sherlock. His knees holding the man down by leaning onto the bed on each side. Sherlock in between them.

That scared him even more, he realized when he took in Moriarty's words.
Dead serious Moriarty was dangerous, very dangerous.

He gasped when he found himself lying on the bed, the other man straddling him, and his hands on the other's chest in a silly attempt to keep him away.

He couldn't believe it but this... this...
"This is sexual harassment," he exclaimed with surprise. "Sexual assault!" he corrected himself.

"What the hell is going on in your head?" he continued, incredulous. It didn't make sense that someone would want to do that with him!

He grinned. He always found it rather cute when Sherlock was saying something that had to do with sex. One thing he didn't knew anything about.

"I'm surprised you even know that term." He said, while lowering his face close to Sherlock's once more. "Now, you did asked me how." James reminded Sherlock. "I want to teach you something new. Feelings, Sherlock. Experience something different." he rested both his hands on the man's chest and he could feel his heart pounding underneath it. Though he couldn't straight away figure out if it was the fact he felt anger, or he actually was excited.

"Of course I know that term! I am a detective! I solve crime that revolve around sex, I know everything there is to know about it!" he exclaimed offended, trying to pull away, but he was against the bed, so it wasn't like he could go any where.

He could always punch Moriarty, he reckoned, but at the moment it didn't seem like an option.
Why? He had no idea.

"I have feelings alright, I don't need you to teach me anything," he exclaimed aggravated. "Who ever decided to put you in charge of my education, anyway?"

"I believe there's much more to know about sex than what you've read in books, honey." He laughed. For some reason he just found that line ridiculously funny.

"I decided to put myself on charge of that, of course." He shrugged, before letting his lips brush over the skin on Sherlock's next, his warm breath supporting that movement. He slowly made his way up, now brushing his lips over Sherlock's once more. He was about to press his own lips against the detective's, giving him, what James figured, his /first/ kiss ever.

"I assure you writers can be very descriptive," he pointed out, his heart was going crazy in his chest, he couldn't believe it was really happening.

Moriarty's body was so close, too close, he felt his warmth, and it made him dizzy.

"I do not approve," he protested, his back arching of its own accord when he felt the other's touch on his neck.
Good gracious he was sensitive there!

He tried to grab the other's shoulders, to push him away, but his muscles froze as he felt the other's lips on his.

A kiss.
He was receiving a kiss.

He pressed his lips on to Sherlock's. Soft, tender and with a lot of passion. After a few moments he pulled back, letting this still new experience to the man under him sank. He stared into his eyes, hoping they'd give away what he felt before he'd say it.

Sherlock's eyes stayed open for the whole time, he still couldn't believe it was happening.
His brain was in a loop, and his feelings were jumbled like never before.

He also couldn't believe the way his body was responding to this.
He felt it was quite the betrayal.
Could he enjoy something like this?

Just because it was warm, and intimate, and it carried a passion no one had ever directed towards him!

"I am not gay," he said, parroting what he had heard John say so many times.
It wasn't really what he'd wanted to say, but he wasn't exactly in contact with his brain at the moment.

The way Jim was looking at him though, he felt utterly naked.

He kept staring into Sherlock's eyes. James felt warm on the inside, his whole body shivering from excitement for a moment. He had been waiting for this moment for oh so long and it finally happened.

"Neither am I" he answered Sherlock's comment. Now Cupping his face with his hands. He lowered himself once more and whispered against Sherlock's lips

"Neither..am..I" And yet again he pulled the detective into a kiss. This time a bit harder, but still as tender and passionate. Hoping to get some response to his actions.

Logic eluded Sherlock at the moment.
And it seemed like it eluded Moriarty as well, he thought briefly when he heard the other's reply to his words.

"Clearly," he commented, quite sarcastic really, but his challenging tone didn't really go past his throat, especially when he realized Jim was leaning closer again.

Not again, he thought, closing his eyes tight.

What was he supposed to do?

He knew this was wrong.

Not because he wasn't gay, but because of who it was that was kissing him.
He remembered when he had imagined this to happen with John.
It felt like eons ago now.

He felt Jim's warmth, his scent, the way he was pressing against him, and he found his hands were not pushing him away, but rather keeping him there.

He felt so weak, because... because his body wanted this.

"Damn you," he whimpered, lips parting slightly as he clumsily kissed back.

Jim smiled onto Sherlock's lips as he heard him curse. He was winning this fight and he loved every second of his. He knew deep inside, Sherlock was longing for more, He /always/ wanted more.

Jim took the kissing to a next level, every now and than he parted his own lips to make Sherlock's fit in between. Inside he felt tingly. He felt his heart rush inside of his chest and the sounds their lips were now making only turned him on more.

One handed was still cupping sherlock's face, stroking over it softly using his thump. The other now traveled over the man's shoulder and upper arm in a sweet and tender movement.

There was a haze enveloping Sherlock's head, he would probably blame that later on, this was all against his will, he told himself, before he decided not to care for at least another few minutes.

The kiss changed, he could feel the other's taste and scent against his lips, he could feel him move, and it was driving his senses crazy.

It was instinct that guided his teeth to nip at the other's lip, that forced him to suck on it very softly, memorizing everything that he could.

Definitely different than in books, he noted.

He could barely hold back when he felt Sherlock nipping onto his lip. Even to James, who wasn't new to making out, this felt strange. Perhaps it was because he was sitting on top of his enemy that gave him the impression it was different from other times. Though, the nipping, To him was a sign he could take this to the next level.

He slowly parted his lips again, as let his tongue teasingly touch Sherlock's lower lip.

His fingers were dancing over Sherlock'd side and chest and he ran his other hand through he man's dark curly hair. Softly tugging it once he reached the end, just above Sherlock's neck.

By then, Sherlock was completely engrossed by the kiss.

He had no idea there could be so many varieties to kissing.

True, he had read that many times in books, about exchanges of fluids and all things of sorts, but finally experiencing this was a whole new matter.

He had secretly kissed John once while he was sleeping, but it had been nothing like this.
That one had been dry and guilty.
This one was warm, wet, and it burned all over him.

He kept gasping in surprise.
It happened also when he felt Jim's tongue on his lips, he knew it was customary, but it made a shiver run up his spine.

Was he supposed to do the same? He wondered, parting his lips further and mimicking the motion.

As he felt Sherlock's tongue coming through he flicked his own around to welcome it. This moment was better then he could of ever wished for.

Their tongues meeting made Moriarty want more, he deepens the kiss while his breathing was getting heavier. His kissing now more eager then before. He slipped his hand down, until he reached Sherlock's waist, pulling onto Sherlock's hips a bit before sliding his hand back up. In the same motion he didn't ran his hand over his shirt, in stead he slipped it underneath, now feeling Sherlock's bare stomach.

In his own sensation he forgot about Sherlock's boundaries. Well, perhaps he didn't forget, he just wanted to cross them. Step by step.

((Off to sleep! I cannot wait to carry on tomorrow. You're awesome. Goodnight. Xx <3 )

Their tongues touching made another long shiver wrap around Sherlock's spine, it was addictive in many ways, he realized.

The next moment he was pushing forward, eager, hungry, actually demanding the kiss to continue.
He wanted to explore this feeling, and his tongue moved on its own, wrapping around Jim's, sucking it into his mouth.

He faintly noted that there was a reason people did this all the time.
It was bloody brilliant!

His fingers twitched on the other's shoulders, sensing the change in Jim's breathing, his eagerness, consequently proven by the way his hands roamed.

He hissed when he felt the touch on his skin, it added to his light head, it made him gasp and swear slightly.

He wanted something, he needed something, but he had no idea what it was, so he just gripped the fabric of the other's shirt, and kissed him, kissed him with a passion he had no idea he possessed.


((Same here~~ aka going to bed and looking forward to continuing tmr <3333 *hugs*))

Closer. He needed this man closer than he already was. Unaware of his movements he slowly started to grind his hips against Sherlock's. Pressing into him.

On the inside James felt as if a swirl of chemicals was rushing through his veins. Leaving him numb for the world outside. The detective's lips were like a drug he suddenly become addictive to. And he wanted more and more with every new touch.

His hand felt uncomfortably while trying to reach up to Sherlock's chest. James blamed it on the tight purple shirt he was wearing. With a soft, sensual stroke he removed his hand from under the shirt. But it didn't left Sherlock's body for a second. He sweeps it over the fabric until he reached the first button, simply undoing it.

His kissing still eager and passionately, tongue's dancing around each other. With a eager grid against Sherlock's hip and other button opening James gritted his teeth into the detective's lower lip. Biting into the soft flesh, tasting Sherlock even better than he already had. He let his teeth slide of the whole surface by pulling his own head back a bit until Sherlock's lip slipped away from his grip.

Sherlock found himself moaning at the feeling of teeth on his lip, it was driving him mad, the whole thing was driving him mad.
His senses didn't know how to deal with this, and it felt like a confused dream.

His eyes widened when he felt the other's hips grinding against his, he could feel the other's erection through the fabric of his trousers, and by contrast he became painfully aware of his own.

He was aroused.
He was properly aroused.
And not because he was thinking about John, or Irene, or anything equally harmless, it was because James Moriarty was snogging him.
His enemy was snogging him.

He had the first proper snog of his life with the person who had ruined said life completely.

James Moriarty was fucking him over. Literally.

Hands finally reacted, he pushed Moriarty away, violently, while he slid to the side and away, trembling in anger as he crawled to the other side of the bed.

What had he done.

/What have I done./

Sherlock's moan made his grown even harder. He by now had unbuttoned nearly the whole shirt and he was just about to take it off.

"WOOOPPS" He said fairly loud as he was swept off the man's body. He fell on his back on the end of the bed. "Rude." He concluded, not happy with the response he'd just received.

Slowly reality started to kick in again and he needed a few seconds to straighten out his thought. He crawled up, getting of the bed. While standing you could still see the excitement coming through his trousers. Not that he mind, He'd love Sherlock to see how he turned him on. Nevertheless he wanted.. needed... an explanation for being rejected so brutally.

Sherlock was curled in himself for a long moment, breathing, panting, just breathing, he needed oxygen, oxygen was the food of brain cells, and he needed to think, he needed to stop feeling.
Feelings were bad.
They were confusing, they were dark, they were terrifying.

He felt tears in his eyes, his crotch pulsing, his whole body was betraying him, but he was not going to let it.
He needed his rationality back.

He palmed himself through his trousers, adjusting himself, and he closed his eyes wishing he could stop existing right there.

Curiosity had really gotten the best of him this time.

He turned around, the shirt sliding loosely off his shoulders and he realized with a gasp just how far they had gotten.

"There is no limit to your malicious nature, is there?" He hissed, Sherlock was beyond himself, he had never been so upset other than when Moriarty had strapped bombs to John...
John...
What would John say if he knew about this?

"Oh please, you were enjoying this just as much as I was. I felt the signals of your body, Sherlock, there's no way around that." James had managed to control his breathing before Sherlock grant him a look. The Irishman stood leaning into a small desk, not so far away from the bed. But far enough to be out of reach. His excitement began to sank as different emotions made their was into his body. The rush of adrenaline that earlier lead his actions, had now become an intoxication. He'd have loved being able to read Sherlock's mind.

On James face an expression of disappointment and sadness. He felt a bit outposted with this whole situation. For a moment he lost control and it was enough the put him off. He detested not being in control. It were as if a switch got hit and he became a complete different person within seconds.

"Perhaps Sherlock Holmes really is a /sissy/" He added cantankerous.

Sherlock was still panting, his chest heaving and he tried to cover himself, feeling incredibly naked now.

He couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed that, it would be a lie he could not live up to.
"That is exactly the problem," he commented, shaking his head, his lips felt swollen, how long have they kissed for?

The disappointment on the other's face made him speechless for a moment, it mixed with the confusion in his feelings, it didn't help one bit.
"This is just preposterous," he exclaimed, running a trembling hand in his hair.

"I am, I probably am a sissy, because I cannot control what's going on in my bloody heart any more," he protested, anger in his voice, but it wasn't towards Moriarty, it was towards himself.
He was the one at fault, the one who gave in.

"You just stole from me the only thing I had left, and I enjoyed it!" his voice was breaking. "And you enjoyed it as well! You!!"

"Of course I enjoyed it Sherlock, don't be silly. That was.. amazing" He had to admit this. Even though Sherlock had never kissed before, his lips were just working wonders.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, feeling things is not a sin. But I understand my 'powers' might have been overwhelming. You owe me now, Sherlock." He said, before turning his back to the taller man.

"I need a shower myself. Feel free to join me anytime." and not another word before he disappeared into the bathroom.