precisionfocus | < It's Christmastime in the city ... >

< It's Christmastime in the city ... >

"James!" Sebastian called as he shut the penthouse door. "Can't snag the manual lock right now." The electronic lock, at least, clicked as the heavy door shut behind him. Fingerprint scan, voice recognition, electronic access card, and physical key. His first impression of the expansive flat James Moriarty owned had been that its owner was highly paranoid. "We're having steaks," he announced as he carried his several bags of groceries to the kitchen. "Or I am. You can order in, but that's what I'm making. What you get for not giving me any grocery list when I asked."

He was used to talking to himself. James often either left without telling him or barricaded himself in his study for his work or else just decided not to answer. If it were one of the first two, James would see and hear it when he reviewed the security tapes. Sebastian put away the food he had bought, and he heard the manual lock turn and click.

James was in the penthouse, at the very least.

December first meant he had worked for James Moriarty for seven months. He had lived with him for six months. The last week of last April had found his cellphone ringing. The voice on the phone had confirmed he was Sebastian Moran and set up an appointment to meet with him the next day. Shady as Hell, but an Army vet trying to make ends meet and no income save his pension could not afford to ask too many questions. But James's business proposal had been entirely satisfactory.

As Sebastian left the kitchen, he heard a quiet sound he had previously dismissed as coming from outside increase. Now, he heard it specifically from the concealed speakers that littered the penthouse. 'With the dawn of redeeming grace...'

"Christmas?"

Of course, he knew the holiday was fast approaching. His mother had called him just this morning, asking if his employer would give him Christmas off. She had encouraged him to ask. If he was free, she insisted he try and bring James to meet the family. She had no idea that James was both the 'James' he spoke highly of and implied he was in a relationship with and the 'Mister Moore' he worked for. From 'Moore' to 'Moriarty' was a small step, but it was enough to make the alias effective. He had also passed a few pounds to a charity. Still, he had not expected this man to acknowledge the holiday, let alone play traditional, religious Christmas music in his home.

"Lovely recording of the song, though."

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Sebastian was ready for the worst possible scenario. He was prepared for pain. No matter where James stabbed, if he did, the fork was not long or sharp enough to be fatal. Hurt like shit, yes. But there would be time to fight. A few good hits, a head slammed into the table. The soldier felt fairly confident that he could, at least, leave a few good marks if it came to that.

He didn't fight the pull on his shirt, bending over the man's chair, still ever aware of the situation and ready to react if need be. The closer he got, though, the less worried he became. ...James wasn't one to want to ruin a good suit with blood.

Then that tongue was on his lips and his mouth was against James's. He groaned quietly and leaned forward even more, one hand taking hold of the arm of a chair.

There was no subtle design here, no carefully orchestrated noises. James seemed to have forgotten about the fork and instead paid attention to the matter at hand. His handsome sniper - his - was so fun to work with. But to play with...even more fun. That was why he liked Sebastian. More or less why.

Huffing a breath from his nose, he sucked on Sebastian's lower lip lightly, not really concentrating. He didn't bite him like he usually enjoyed doing, but the flat of his teeth was against the flesh between his lips like a quiet reminder that he could - at any moment - chomp down.

James's hand quickly released his shirt and crawled upward, fingers tapping against his chest and neck like a spider before he blindly found his chin. His touch stroked up and down the edge of his jawbone slowly, as if he were contemplating the line of it before his gaze traveled higher to make eye-contact with Sebastian.

"You said you'd finish after dinner." His tone was uncharacteristically pleading. There might be a pout approaching.

Lips or tongue or teeth... Sebastian found he could not really bring himself to worry. Stupid as it was, there were times and situations where he trusted James. And, even more strangely and perhaps even more foolishly, they were moments like this. Quiet and private. What others might have considered the most dangerous.

But it was in a crowd, slipping about to find a mark or completing some task under the mastermind's supervision... That was when he was most on guard.

This? He leaned into the feel of the mouth, tilted his head toward the touches. Then, when James spoke, he smiled faintly and chuckled. "So I did." He moved his hands to unbutton James's jacket and push it off. The less cloth, the easier it would be to get at those taut muscles. That removed, he began to unbutton James's dress shirt.

A few seconds with Sebastian undoing his buttons was all it took for James's brain to go alert again. The hand that grappled with the fork earlier shot up to clasp over the one attending to the buttons on his shirt. The metal underneath was cold and brought him to it's attention. Snaking his fingers between Sebastian's he shook his head, a smirk and a blaze in his eyes.

"Bedroom," James groaned. He endeavored to distract Sebastian from what he was doing with an abrupt departure from the slow, contented mood of the evening. His hands darted up to fist in Sebastian's hair and tug sharp while molding his mouth to Sebastian's, tongue sliding past his lips and against the roof of his mouth. He began to stand up - only slightly - working to get to more of the man before untangling himself from his strangely categorized bodyguard and grinning sharp.

He had some way of slipping out of things that could remind one of slime; oozing down a wall. This was an admittedly childish way to get out but as Sebastian had him pinned in his chair, he slipped down to the ground and under the table before racing to the bedroom.

He removed his tie and with it something underneath his shirt. that he put on the dresser. To appear as if this wasn't his only objective here, he toe'd off his shoes and finished off the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

"God damn you," Sebastian muttered, but he was smirking as he licked his lips and watched the man go. Second time tonight he'd slipped away. ...Though at least this time it was with an invitation to follow. Something to be said for small favours at least.

He took a last drink of his water at the table before he went for the master bedroom. The spare was unused, had been for months. He'd come to sleep in James's bed as often as the genius did, usually at the same time, too.

"Jumpy tonight," he murmured as he entered the room, slipping his blazer off and hanging it over the handle of the door. He'd hang it up properly tonight. Sebastian couldn't help teasing the man just a bit.

"Oh come off it, you like it." He smiled big and flopped down onto the bed, spread-eagle. It was big enough to let him lay down without a finger or toe touching the edge, big enough for Sebastian too though that amount of space that James had probably wouldn't be the same for the long-legged Sebastian.

Sebastian removed his shoes and socks before climbing onto the bed, straddling the other man. He ducked his head to bring his lips to James's, his hands once more beginning to undo the buttons of the dress shirt.

"You know," he muttered, pressing one more hard kiss, "this is not likely to get you to relax. Which was my original intention."

"I'm sure I'll sleep like a baby though," James chuckled softly against the kiss. He was a very tactile human being, he liked to touch things - feel the weight of them in his hands. He was always grabbing at Sebastian and he wouldn't dream of stopping now.
Slender fingers wrapped around Sebastian's hips where his pants hung.

"God. James."

He pulled his head back slightly, looked down at James. A smaller man, but Sebastian had quickly learned to never underestimate him. He was breathing hard, thoughts of working those sore muscles abandoned for other ideas. Sebastian ducked his head to bring his lips to James's again.

For some reason that laugh wouldn't go away. It continued to bubble up into his throat and turned up the corners of his mouth against Sebastian's kisses. "Am I really that much of a tease, darling?" The question was punctuated by a roll of his hips underneath Sebastian, with his hands holding his hips he could make a wide arch up against him and James was already getting hard with him on top.

Sebastian groaned low at that feeling, pressing his hips down to meet that movement of James's. He was hard himself, and feeling James in a similar state only made him moan again.

"Don't even pretend you don't know it." He ducked his head to kiss him hard again then pulled back slightly. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

As James arched up, Sebastian moved his hands to push off the other man's jacket and dress shirt at once.

That was definitely a boost to his ego. James rose up under him to free his arms and back up for Sebastian to slide his clothes off. "Be careful with that. It's a Yves." Whatever that meant.

"That's nice," Sebastian muttered, half to himself. His lips sank almost immediately to James's neck as he pushed the discarded clothing off the side of the bed. Whatever brand or fabric or... whatever... the suit was, the dry cleaners could get out any wrinkles that came from it being on the floor for a night.

He sat up after a moment more, hands working to get his own shirt off him, pulling his undershirt off over his head a few moments later.

"I'm detecting a lack of appreciation in your voice," James simpered meanly as Sebastian mouthed the line of his neck; it might have drawn a small (but genuine) moan from him.

When Sebastian sat up to remove his own shirt James licked his lips, pupils widened but his eyes were too dark to see. He loved this part. The shifting of his muscles, the light playing off of them. The scars especially were his favorite. Far and few between but they were lighter than the rest and shiny too. As if by instinct his hand reached up to start tracing over the ones he knew well. His fingernails scraped along the edge of one at his ribcage, hard enough to leave marks but only indenting the skin.

Sebastian chuckled low in his throat at the feel of those hands.

Most of his scars were ancient, some even from a rough-and-tumble childhood. The one James traced was from an ill-fated task early in his military career and was more 'accident' than 'action.' Three scars on his chest, though, were only about eighteen months old, and anyone who knew injuries... There was no mistaking them. Bullets.

One of his friends had called him a 'lucky son of a bitch' when he'd applied pressure in the field to keep him from bleeding out. The base doctor had said the same thing except in more polite terms.

"God damn," he whispered with a smile as he looked down at James.

James grinned with Sebastian's low curse, the smile curved like a blade; smooth and biting.

His fingers went after the belt on Sebastian's pants, dexterously sliding the buckle apart and tugging at it to remove it. "Much too much clothing." Like he was trying to further his point, James arched up against his groin again, absolutely reveling in the feeling and showing it on his face, intending to torture the man into his urges.

"Lovely, lovely Sebastian."

Sebastian gave a quiet groan at the renewed press against him, and he moved his hips into it, arcing up and down as he rubbed himself against that feeling. It was almost too delightful to stand.

His hands went down, mirroring James's actions of unbuckling then removing a belt.

"As you say," he muttered before bringing his lips to James's while one hand unbuttoned the single button on James's dress slacks while the other tugged lightly to pull the zip down. He lowered his voice, speaking against James's lips, unable to help the words, "Anything you say."

Anything?. Oh that was free reign according to James. He was just given permission by Sebastian to play however he wanted. Or at least, that was his interpretation of his precious sniper's words.

James flung the belt to the side, the leather curling on the mattress as he chuckled. His hands returned to ghost over the sharp bone of his hips before he sucked on the lobe of Sebastian's ear, kneading it with his teeth before whispering in that soft voice of his:

"Touch yourself."

James leaned back onto the sheets, looking mightily aroused by the idea of Sebastian taking his own hand to himself as ordered. He could so easily imagine Sebastian doing whatever he asked or told with the same quickness he followed orders on a mission. That was what he wanted and his cock twitched under the tented fabric of his briefs at the very idea.

When James leaned back, Sebastian shifted. He'd play that game, certainly. Happily. But he'd wait at least a moment before he followed that first command.

He took the time to duck his head and kiss James once more. To run his tongue across James's bottom lip, suck at it briefly, then pull back while gently scraping his teeth across it.

Sebastian sat up. He took off his trousers with as little surrendering of his position straddling James as he could manage. Amidst his manoeuvring, he pushed and tugged James's trousers off as well. His hand cupped and rubbed James's covered groin, but he did not remove that last article of clothing. His own boxers, though, he removed.

A smirk became apparent as he sat up. After all, being bent over James gave the mastermind only so much of a view. If he was going to be giving orders... he deserved full benefit of seeing them carried out. The sniper didn't say a word as he wrapped his hand around his own prick and began to move it up and down.

He went very quiet, very quickly. The closest thing to a noise drawn out of him was a gasp at the hand curling against his erection. It felt wonderful, to be perfectly frank.

James was purring underneath him; humming settling in his chest and throat as he watched Sebastian from half lidded eyes. He seemed like he wanted to touch him, swipe his fingers up and down the well-defined muscle of his lower stomach. To scratch at that perfect skin so tiny dots blood would well up under his fingernails. There was such a look of lust across his face, it was a wonder he didn't try to hide it.

What did he have to hide from Sebastian. Nothing. Practically nothing at least.

Sebastian smirked briefly as he shifted, rising and falling with his own increasing strokes. Every movement was, admittedly, slightly exaggerated, but if James wanted a show, he'd get one. Up and down with his hand, usually equally long movements, but they dampened on the occasions when his hand paused to let his thumb edge and rub the tip before he resumed working the full length.

He groaned quietly, canting his head to one side and slightly back.

His. He didn't often say it and he tried to act like he didn't know it. But he did know. James was as much his as he was James's. They were more than employer and employee, mastermind and sniper. Even more than lovers. There was an undercurrent of friendship. They wouldn't say it, didn't talk about the level of trust that was implicit in nearly all they did. But Sebastian knew it was there... Sometimes, he was even sure James knew it, too.

"What does it feel like?", he asked, slightly mystified at the way he looked. He'd had Sebastian's hand on him before but Christ this was something altogether different. It was much, much better. To say James was a voyeur would be....an interesting slant on it. Far from the truth, but a way of putting it - certainly.

"Tell me...," James sounded like a child after a deeply coveted secret. Plying.

His fingers coiled around the leather belt abandoned by his side and his breath grew heavier.

Sebastian chuckled under his breath at the question. He continued the stroking, murmuring, "Warm." James's hands were always cold. At least slightly. Cold enough to be felt. But he never minded that. Not at all.

But predictable. His own hand, his own tricks. He knew what he liked, but there was no element of surprise. Still, if this was what James wanted to see-- Sebastian continued it. He'd tried to mimic the way James could work him when he was alone, but he could never get the rhythm or the faint application of nails, and he didn't even bother to try now. He only continued stroking, his body rising and falling ever so slightly as he did so.

The belt was still in hand as he watched Sebastian and a grin twisted his features. He could imagine warm, taste it in the way he said it. It made him feel warm. Cold fingers stroked along the inside of Sebastian's thigh slowly, fingernails catching against the skin eversoslightly. He's positively entranced by Sebastian but that doesn't stop him from doing something.

Bony fingers manipulated the belt into half it's length, taking the end and the buckle together in his hand. His shoulder flexed, the movement smooth and connecting to each muscle to his wrist as he twisted his hand and swatted the thick of the belt against Sebastian's back, the force uncontrolled and unconcentrated. He did not mean for it to really hurt him, but then he didn't mean for it to be playful either. James was strong for someone his size and weight but not stronger than his Moran.

Sebastian gave a slight murmur at the feeling of those fingers on him. His breathing became heavier, and he stroked harder at himself. He hunched over James slightly, not yet bent enough to kiss him. No... James wanted to watch him, and Sebastian wouldn't interfer with that.

He stopped, though, with a hiss of "Christ" when the belt struck his back. His hand paused at the base of his erection, though he didn't seem bothered. Only surprised.

Six months ago, he'd have been sincere and adamant that the S&M scene wasn't for him. Now he liked the bite that had, enjoyed the feel of teeth and nails scraping his skin, reveled in begging and being begged... He looked down at the smaller male, head canted slightly, as if he were determining whether or not retaliation was in order for that.

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