Back from hell.

Jim nodded, holding back a smirk. He had guessed Sherlock had never kissed anyone before, but it was still a surprise. "I thought so," he said softly. Then his eyes widened slightly when Sherlock brushed his fingers against his lips, the touch igniting something within him he didn't understand- didn't want to understand. Heat flared through him as Sherlock leaned back in, pressing his lips against Jim's own once again. He hadn't expected that.

This definitely wasn't Jim's first kiss. He had been careless with his lovers (if they could be considered that) over the years, so careless that he had no idea how many he had. He only took what he wanted from them and left without a second thought. None of them could hold his attention or interest for very long. All of them were one-time flings- except for one. Sebastian Moran. But that relationship was as twisted as they come. Years from working together had produced a demented version of a partnership, and Jim wanted out of it.

The feeling of kissing someone who could understand him was better than anything he could've experienced with someone else. He tightened his grip on Sherlock and deepened the kiss, staggering against the man as he almost lost control. Vertigo swept through him and he had to hold on to Sherlock to steady himself.

Hands were keeping him pulled close and he felt Jim's tight grip, unsure what it meant. Sherlock lived inside the moment, forcing his thoughts of morals out of his brain. New found feelings triggered all his senses. His lips parted slightly and almost in an automatically, smooth motion he let his own tongue run along John's lips, begging for entrance. Jim tastes good and Sherlock just wanted to explore more of this.

Sherlock didn't care to know who else may have been there before. He could tell Jim had experience on this area and he had expected little else. As for him he had sometimes, on very rare occasions, tried to imagine what things like these would be like. The person he had visualised had always been John though, even though he knew what they had was pure and utterly platonic.

Sherlock's free hand moved up as well as he remembered seeing a couple in some back alley doing this once. He then told them to get a room and most certainly spoiled the whole thing. His hand moved all the way up to Jim's hair, stroking through it and slightly tugging it at the back of his neck.

Opening his mouth to Sherlock, Jim couldn't hold back a moan. He was finally giving into something he had been fighting for almost twenty years. That Jim had always wanted Sherlock in this way. If things had been different- if he had been different, then both of their lives would've been better. He knew that and that knowledge made him angry. Angry with himself, but he couldn't stop the anger from flowing into the kiss.

Not so gently, he guided Sherlock back into the wall and let his hands roam over the man's body. Jim needed to touch him, just skin to skin, so he untucked Sherlock's shirt and slipped his hands underneath, shivering as he grasped his hips and pressed himself against Sherlock.

Gasping, Jim pulled away from the kiss and looked up at the other with heavily-lidded eyes. "Is this what you want, Sherlock?" he asked softly, his voice almost teasing. "Do you want me?" He cocked an eyebrow at him and let a faint smile show on his lips.

Soon it felt as if their tongues were fighting a war instead of their minds. The kiss quickly became filthy and driven by emotions both weren't able to say. Unaware of anything else, Sherlock started to enjoy what they were doing. Or at least now he could understand why others liked this so much.

The rough way Jim handled him, was only adding up to the arousing feeling Sherlock began to create. He yelped softly when his back slammed against the nearest wall, followed by an bigger amount of passion in their kiss.

His eyes opened wide when he suddenly felt cold hands hoovering over his skin. Shivers ran down his spine and goosebumps indicated his feelings. Not soon after a pleasured moan float into the kiss they were sharing.

Sherlock's eyelids fluttered down to meet Jim's. He couldn't help but smile a little as if to say thank you for what he was doing. A small amount of doubt slipped into his mind when he heard Jim's clearly teasing question. They weren't supposed to do this, he knew. But as he looked down on his own body, Jim's hands still attached to it, there was no denying. He indeed wanted Jim.

His lips felt heavy and swollen as he opened them to answer. "I.. I think so, yes." He said, hesitating a bit. He didn't want to come across too eager or confident, since he wasn't neither of them. But he didn't want to stop this, whatever Jim's future plans were. He had Sherlock, right at this moment.

Letting out a slow, satisfied chuckle, Jim moved his hands up and down Sherlock's sides lightly. "Well, that's something I think we can agree on." Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against Sherlock's neck and kissed it, letting his teeth graze over the man's speeding pulse. "You taste divine," he whispered before he caught Sherlock's lips with his own again.

Heat flooded through his body as his hands roamed over Sherlock's skin. It was softer than he imagined. (And hadn't he imagined this moment? He had, but he hadn't realized the meaning behind it. He had only equated this desire with a desire to destroy. How wrong he had been.)

The kiss began to get more heated, more forceful and before he knew it, his fingers were clumsily working on Sherlock's shirt buttons.

With his own hands still dug into Jim's hair, he replied with a weak but sincere smile. The way Jim's hands were moving over his sides made it almost impossible to resist, refuse or decline anything this man was up to. Sherlock's neck craned back, his dark curls resting against the wall as Jim's warm lips attached to his neck. For the very first time Sherlock moaned, overwhelmed and disbelieving he could ever feel more aroused by something.

As their lips met again, Sherlock added as much passion as he could. He wanted to show Jim he could keep up with this, even as inexperienced as he was. The need to level with this person was still strong, however it was only a matter of time before he had to give in.

Sherlock mirrored Jim's actions, first sliding of the jacket of Jim's suit before he untucked his shirt. Not long after one of his hands started to slowly open up button by button, his other trailed down over the skin that became exposed. Curious Sherlock let his fingers circle along the surface, exploring areas he had never been before.

Jim was surprised that Sherlock was letting this happen. He had expected the man to push him away after the first kiss. Then again, that was what he liked about him. Without fail, Sherlock always succeeded in surprising Jim. He finished unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt and moved to help him unbutton his own, his lips never leaving Sherlock's.

Impatiently, he ripped both of their shirts off and pressed his bare chest against Sherlock's- the feeling of their bare skin against each other causing him to let out a low gasp. Jim pulled away from the kiss, looking up at Sherlock as his hands lazily traveled over his skin.

"Do you understand what I want?" he asked Sherlock in a soft voice. "Are you willing to let it go all the way?"

He had no idea why he was stopping to- what was he doing? Asking permission? He never asked for permission. James Moriarty took what he wanted and damn the consequences. Why was this situation any different?

Jim knew, but he still didn't want to accept it.

In no time he could feel his own hands rubbing down the soft skin on Jim's chest. The friction of their bodies rubbing together like this made him tremble in anticipation. Not certain what else what following, not certain why he was letting this happen in the first place.

As Jim pulled away, Sherlock grabbed the occasion to catch up with his breath, desperately trying to get it into a normal pattern again. His hands kept on Jim's bare skin, impossible to pull away. He had to think about the question Jim shot at him. His mind processing information slower since it had began to shut his rational thinking down.

"I eh. I think I know what you're leading me in to." He said, even though he had no idea if it actually was Jim's intention to end up in a bed with him. "But I..." He cleared his throat once more. "I've never...-" His eyes went looking down as his own chest as his cheeks turned red once again. Of course Jim knew he had never done this before, but would it even matter? Jim could have him, however he wanted, and Sherlock wouldn't be able to put up any form of protest. Jim had got his mind and body in such a state, it didn't care about consequences anymore. Regret was something the next morning would bring, right now was what counted, at least to Sherlock.

Nodding to himself, Jim hid the smile that threatened to show, knowing Sherlock would read it as condescending. "Well, you'll find out soon enough where I'm leading you, my dear." He took a step back from Sherlock, keeping his eyes locked on the man.

"Before that happens, though," Jim murmured. "Lead me to your bed." He kept his excitement off of his face, instead focusing on keeping it stoic. The only thing he couldn't hide was his trembling hands, but the way Sherlock was blushing made him feel a little bit better about it.

Sherlock had an idea of what Jim Moriarty wanted. It was only the question if he was able to give it to him at the moment it was about to happen. Sherlock saw it as the last thing he had, the only thing he had left to give. But right now he forced those thoughts out, he had to, if h wanted to get rid of the dull life he was leading.

Rather awkwardly Sherlock took Jim by his smaller hands. "this way." he muttered as started moved them both. A minute later he swung open the door of a fairly small room, only a bed and a small table next to it filling it up. "well..." Sherlock said not sure what was supposed to happen now.

Jim only glanced around the room before he acted. (Of course, in the back of his mind, he was horrified that anyone could live in these kind of conditions. His idea of an ideal bedroom was, of course, a bit more decadent than this.) He grabbed Sherlock and pushed him on the bed, pausing a moment to look down at the man before he crawled on top of him.

Jim took his time and trailed light, teasing kisses up Sherlock's chest, looking up at the man after each one. Finally, he reached his lips and kissed him deeply before he pulled away to whisper in his ear. "Just follow my lead." As he spoke, his hand trailed down Sherlock's body slowly, stopping at the man's belt buckle and quickly undoing it. "You'll catch on quickly, I'm sure of it. You haven't let me down yet."

He kept his face where it was, his breath hot against Sherlock's ear as he slid his hand into the man's pants. His breathing hitched when he wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's member.

Taken by surprise Sherlock fell down on his bed, welcoming Jim by wrapping hi arms around him as he crawled on top. Each kiss triggered a new wave of pleasure and arousal, sending heat to that one place in his lower abdomen. Jim's almost black eyes looking up to him, he could see lust flickering in them. When his lips got reached Sherlock returned the kiss with equal passion, pressing their bodies together.

Sherlock's eyes fell close as Jim's whispers trachee his ear. Hè could have never imagend how turned on he could get by just hearing and feeling someone whisper in his ear. He nodded in reply, not able to say anything at the moment. Sherlock didn't know what to concentrate on first, Jim's trailing hand or the hot breath floating over his cheek area.

An embarressly loud moan tore from his throat As he felt Jim's hand wrapping around him. His eyes shot open wide and his mouth hung open a bit. instinctively his hips had bucked up, making Jim's hand move over him a bit. Never had he felt such frictions and denying was impossible, this indeed felt good.

Even though Jim could feel what was happening, he still wondered if this was a dream- or, even more plausible, a hallucination. Twenty years of dreaming and fantasizing had finally come true and Jim knew he didn't deserve it. There had been too many plans, plots, and calculated moves of his that ended in unimaginable deaths- and he would never regret any of them. This could only be a stolen moment of ecstasy before his karma caught up with him.

Lightly running his thumb over the tip of Sherlock's cock, Jim grinned as he felt the man's hips buck up and he obliged him by beginning to stroke in a slow, teasing manner. "Oh, my," he whispered. "You think this feels good? There's so much more."

As he spoke, Jim's free hand was undoing his own pants. When he was done, he reached for Sherlock's hand and guided it down to his erection.

"Just like this," Jim murmured, twisting his hand on Sherlock's cock for emphasis.

Moments like this had never slipped into Sherlock's imagination much. Let alone imagining them with James Moriarty, his number one nemisis. If anyone were to walk in at this very moment, they'd assume he'd lost his mind. And maybe he had. These years alone, without any social contact beside with his brother, had left him with only a shadow of what he used to be. Carving for attention in any way, carving for distraction from his dull, dragging life.

And then there was Jim, giving him exactly what he needed. Sherlock's hips kept tensed under his touch. "It does feels good. I can barely imagine more." Sherlock whispered in return. His hand easily followed Jim's guide, passed his trousers and pants and wrapped around his hard member.

He was quick to get the hang of it, his tall fingers starting to move the hard, warm skin. At first hesitatingly, wondering whether or not this felt as it should to Jim. But after a few, his moves became a bit more confident and determined. His free hand ran down over Jim's spine and back up, gently and tender repeating this action as he was enjoying everything happening right now.

Surprisingly pleasant shivers ran up and down Jim's spine as Sherlock touched him. Oh, this was so much better than his fantasies and he couldn't stop himself from moving his hips into Sherlock's grip. A light moan escaped from his lips as Sherlock's touch became more confident. Taking a deep breath, Jim removed his hand and ran it up Sherlock's abdomen, resting it on his collarbone. Instantly, flashes of what he could do if he just wrapped his hand around the man's throat and squeeze assaulted him and he pulled away, brushing Sherlock's hands off of him.

This wasn't right. (Yes, it was.) Jim squeezed his eyes shut and rolled off of Sherlock, laying on his back next to him. If he knew what was right, Jim would leave. But James Moriarty never knew what was right anymore. (No, if he did, he already would've killed Sherlock Holmes and left.)

"I-," he cut himself off, unsure of what to say. "I should go." But as soon as he said the words, he knew he wouldn't leave. So, he opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock, his heart jumped in his throat as he realized how beautiful the man was- and Jim never thought in those terms. "What have you done to me?" His brow furrowed in anger and confusion.

Sparks of pleasure triggered through Sherlock's spine with every new stroke of Jim's hand. His eyes fell close, never had he been more aroused, been in more pleasure. Hormones intoxicated his already poisoned mind. His own hand kept busy on Jim's erection, gaining more confident when he heard the silent moan.

Sherlock expected Jim to go a step further when he felt his hand move away. However he couldn't help but whimper at the loss of friction. His eyes opened, willing to look Jim in the eyes as he continued pleasuring him. Nothing like it happened and in stead Sherlock found Jim turning away and declining hid touch.

Had he done it wrong? Had he made a wrong move, hurt Jim with his inexperienceness. "Did I-" but jim had already said different words. It felt as if Reality slapped him painfully in his face. Coherence slowly dripping back into his dizzy mind. Sherlock looked down on himself, his erection pulsing up against him abdomen. His cheeks turned red with shame and self couciousness.

"what.. What have /I/ done to /you?/?" Sherlock snorted, pulling up his pants to cover himself. "I bet this was all part of your new little plan right? You knew just fine how much I must have been craving for distraction. Willing to take whatever crosses my path." his voice still raw from arousal. He sat up straight, turning his back to Jim and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Bitterness came dancing on his chest again.

Jim only stared at the ceiling, bile rising in his throat from anger and regret. He should call Sebastian. He should pull his pants back up. He should just kill Sherlock Holmes and be done with it. Jim knew that all of these options were much more logical than what he was going to do.

He was going to stay. There was no way Jim could leave now. Not after he had finally tasted Sherlock, finally felt him. Jim sat up slowly and took another deep breath. "Do you know how long I've wanted you, Sherlock? Since the day you came to that pool to investigate a suspicious death. I was there that day, making sure all of my tracks were covered. You came into the locker room and found me cleaning out my locker." He paused, trying to gather his memories. (Jim was well aware that some of his memories were distorted by his narcissism. But not this one. This one was crystal clear.)

"You saw me. You came up and talked to me. Asked me questions about Carl." Jim shrugged, a faint smile on his face now. "I was in shock. The murder was perfect. Nobody...nobody should've figured out that it wasn't an accident. But there you were." He gestured with both of his hands, lost in the memory. "Sherlock Holmes. You knew it was murder. I stood there... You were so mesmerizing, you know? And then you left as quickly as you arrived. I bet you forgot about me the minute you walked out."

Jim ran a hand over his face and let out a laugh that almost sounded like a sob. "Oh, everyday. Every night. You were always in my thoughts. Always. I hated you so much for that. I wanted to destroy you, because I thought that maybe then you would quit haunting me."

Finally, he turned his face to Sherlock's back, hoping the man would catch the sincere tone in his voice. (Even though the very thought of being sincere to anybody, let alone Sherlock, made him sick to his stomach.) "I've only just now realized that it wasn't hate that I've been feeling."

As Sherlock took in Jim's words, memories of that day began to reoccur. First they were a bit hazy, the case was solved and stored somewhere in the back of his mind. But the more details Jim spilled, the clearer his mind showed him, like a film projected on the wall in front of him, exactly what happened that day.

Shivers and goosebumps covered his whole body. He had never heard Moriarty open up. He had always been hiding behind some childish behaviour, making him look more reckless then anyone Sherlock had ever came across to. The honestly the other was giving him, was making Sherlock's wall tremble down. Physical contact was one thing, but being able to make Sherlock feel, emotionally, was another. And Moriarty was just accomplishing it all.

His head turned a little, only just looking at Jim who now seemed to be facing him. Sherlock blinked a few times, giving his mind the time to process everything. "Then what was it?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. He always was so oblivious for these kind of things. Maybe because he'd never let them close. That doesn't seem to work with Moriarty though.

{ Hello, my dearest Jim. I'm going to be away for about a week. I'll be able to RP, but my answer will be very slow and such. Just so you know. <3 }

Jim was silent for a moment as he studied Sherlock. The turn of his head, the way the man looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. All of it ignited something inside of Jim he long thought he had destroyed. He could feel it burning through his veins. But he still had no name for it.

"I don't know," Jim answered honestly with a shrug of his shoulders. "I only know now that the thought of killing you makes me... It's inconceivable." Falling back into silence, his gaze lingered on Sherlock before he nodded to himself, kicking his shoes off and standing up. Ridding himself of his pants as well, he walked over to Sherlock and stopped when he was in front of him.

Jim placed two fingers underneath Sherlock's chin and lifted it, forcing the man to look up at him. "There," he said softly. "I can see it right there in your eyes, also. That same maddening confusion." He gave Sherlock a shaky smile as he lightly ran his two fingers down the man's jawline. His hands trembled as he came to close to that delicate throat.

He would have to fight twenty years of wanting to kill this man- and Jim wasn't sure if he could succeed.




(( My darling Sherlock, I understand. I shall try to suffer through it. <3)

The detective's head turned back to stare at the imaginary window in front of him. The thought of Jim struggling with feelings was something he couldn't immediately wrap his head around. He felt the movements of the other behind him, refusing to look behind him once again. Bare feet came walking towards his and within no time Sherlock felt those hands on him again.

His face looked up. Jim's eyes, still almost black, came drilling into his and there was no way Sherlock was able to look away from those. He wanted to protest, to not let Jim get under his skin once again, but how could he? The man was standing naked in front of him, pouring his heart out. Something Sherlock wouldn't have cared about years ago. But right now, he did.

Jim was right, Sherlock was confused. But these feelings only started moments ago. Perhaps just because Sherlock never let anything through, until he was all alone. "I don't care about dying right now." In fact, the thought thrilled him. "I've got nothing, so how bad could things be?" A long shiver ran down on him when Jim's hands moved. His own wrapped around the wrist that came close to his neck, holding it in a tight grip and keeping it in place.

Jim's eyes flashed when Sherlock grabbed his wrist and he had to stop himself from tearing his hand away. Instead, he grinned, but there was something decidedly dark about it. "Trust me, Sherlock Holmes. There is always something to lose. Even when you think you have nothing left." His eyes softened. "I speak from experience."

Licking his lips, Jim went to his knees in front of Sherlock. He knew he was showing his vulnerable side, but he could see that Sherlock needed to see it- further evidence of Jim's sincerity. "But tonight... Let's forget about the past. Just for tonight. In the morning, I can leave or kill you, if you want." Jim made a face at the thought, knowing that he could never do it. Not anymore. "Or you could kill me."

(It was then that Jim knew if Sherlock held a gun to his head, he wouldn't move. Wouldn't try to save himself. Nothing he had ever done or ever will do would make his life salvageable. And what better way to die than at the hands of the only person who ever meant anything to him?)

Sherlock's hand loosened around Jim's thin wrist. He slowly slid his hand off at the same time as Jim went down on his knees. His hand now fell onto Jim's shoulder and he didn't bother moving it away. He could tell Jim was doing a great effort here, another side of his he'd never seen before. And most certainly reaching to Sherlock's heart.

"I have no desire killing you." Sherlock almost whispered. How could he even say this? He had waited all these years to kill this man. "You however, seem to be struggling more to keep that part of you controlled." Sherlock craned his neck, exposing it more to Jim.

The detective's tall, pale fingers ran up, over Jim's soft neck and up to his cheek, slowly caressing them. "Only tonight." He said, lowering his chin to look at Jim. God, those eyes were pulling him in.

"You should, Sherlock," Jim said earnestly. "You really should. Because there will be a time when I won't be able to stop myself." He wanted to continue warning him- to talk Sherlock out of letting him get close. But Sherlock's fingers gently caressing his face stopped him and he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the other's in a hard, bruising kiss.

"Let's make the most of it then," Jim whispered against Sherlock's lips before he kissed him again. His hands slid slowly down to Sherlock's pants, opening them once more and wrapping his fingers around the man's erection. Jim pulled away from the kiss and flashed Sherlock a grin before he pushed him back with his free hand. "Don't move," he ordered in a husky voice.

Jim licked his lips before he leaned his head down and, very softly- teasingly almost, kissed the tip of Sherlock's cock. He glanced up at Sherlock, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he opened his mouth and took him in.

"I will of course find the right thing to do when the occasion occurs." He reassured Jim. Right now he wouldn't be afraid to die, he would do anything to change the state of his mind, to finally feel the need to revive. But maybe after this, when his mind became rational again, he would see how sinful his actions were, and killing Jim wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

A nod of agreement was given to Jim when he told Sherlock to make the best of it. It couldn't get any worse now, could it? He had already touched Jim in the most inappropriate way. His lips pouted once more, welcoming Jim's kiss. Even more passion was detectable this time. Sherlock's breath sped up, mingling it into the kiss they shared.

As he was pushed back, he obeyed to Jim's order, lying as still as possible. Sherlock had a vague idea of what might happen next, however he hadn't had a clue on how to imagine it. Until he felt something that made his cock twitch. Jim's lips, slowly closing in around him. Sherlock gasped at the same time as an embarrassingly loud moan float away from his lips.

His head fell back against the sheets completely. His mouth hanging open a bit. Recalling the feeling he had when Jim's hand wrapped around him the first time, this felt a million times better. "Oh." He moaned once again, letting his eyes fell close to enjoy this. One of his hands moved down, towards Jim. He ran it through his hair, before he tugged them. Sherlock was slowly getting intoxicated with the pleasure his body was feeling this very moment.

Knowing this was Sherlock's first time, Jim took it slow and kept his eyes on the man as he worked his mouth on his cock. When Sherlock entangled his long fingers through Jim's hair, he had to fight the urge to pull away. He hated anybody pulling his hair, but surprisingly, after a moment, he realized he didn't mind it when Sherlock did it. It only made him want the man that much more.

The noises that were coming from Sherlock drove Jim crazy with lust- he had to stop himself from pulling away and just having him right then and there. But that wouldn't do. Since this was the only night they would ever have, Jim wanted to take his time. He would store all the details away in his mind and only replay them when he was in his darkest times.

Jim gave Sherlock's cock a couple more hard sucks before he pulled away and sat back. "Take your pants off," he said in a shaky voice.