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 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.

James grinned up at him, completely unabashed. His body language practically screamed 'challenge!'; the way his eyebrows arched and his bottom lip curled under his teeth. He could be sitting atop the sniper or below him, it didn't make a difference in his attitude. There was no clear give and take between them, it was always different each night. Most of the time it was a fight for dominance between both of them, till someone caved or conquered. One of Sebastian's many admirable qualities, James thought.

The belt squeaked low in his fist and he flicked his arm again - harder. He was getting off on it; hitting Sebastian like this while the man was on top him. A riding crop would be even more fun.

But that was under the headboard.

Sebastian smirked at the sight of the other man. The second strike only confirmed it. This was war.

And Sebastian was a soldier.

He left off his attentions to himself. One hand went down, stripping James of his briefs, touching him as little as possible. The clothes discarded, he wrapped his hand around James's cock snugly and drew his grip up slowly. The pad of his thumb grazed then rubbed the head before he withdrew it entirely.

The sniper remained over James, straddling him, but there was enough room that to arch up to bring contact between their bodies, James would have to sacrifice the steadiness he needed to deliver blows with the bent belt. Sebastian licked his lips.

James didn't cry out or quiver at Sebastian's touch. A cool, steady moan left him and a slow stretch rippled through him - fluid and calm. His eyes continuously fixed on Sebastian - only drifting down now to watch the sniper's hand on his prick.

His grip on the belt loosened and flexed - he wanted to dominate Sebastian Moran; it was true he was the stronger of the two, the more agile, quicker even, but James was the brain, the balance, the control. Nobody got to him, not without his say-so; he could twist them around his finger without so much as looking at them.

He wanted so badly to close the small space between their bodies and fill it with clawing and biting, furious contact and long drawn out shudders of climax. He wanted to shred Sebastian to bits and reassemble him amongst the sheets afterwards.

Christ. James huffed out a breath when the man's tongue darted out along his lips, the mastermind looked ...flustered. Hungry.

The fingers of his free hand went scratching and digging along the skin on the bone of Sebastian's hip, attempting to coax him closer. Just a bit closer.

The belt was not yet forgotten.

Sebastian leaned in, well aware another strike or two of the belt was likely to follow, especially as he palmed the length of James's cock without really seeing to it, doing nothing that could come close to satisfying. His other hand, firm but easy right now, ran across James's thigh, fingers skirting inward with an almost caress, as if there weren't nails digging into his hip.

"I wonder," he murmured, chuckling low in his throat and speaking sweetly, "if I can make you beg."

He stroked the prick in his hand, curling his fingers around as he slowly rubbed. He knew every word would be repaid, but damn it would be fun. Even just for James's reaction now.

"Get you so worked up you're pleading for me to get off in you."

Cards on the table, he knew he was more likely to crack than James... but it was something to imagine. And the attempt would be worth it in itself.

Laughter bubbled up in his throat. It wasn't light, but dark; much too cruel and mirthful for a man pinned down. Somewhere a few blocks away, a child started crying.

His fingers curled around Sebastian's side, skating up the still-slightly tanned skin to coil behind his neck and wind in his hair. His hair was getting longer, James noted. Perhaps a trim would be due soon.

"Well I know how you love testing my patience," he murmured as the end of the giggling died down. His voice dampened into a soft groan as his hips shifted ever so slightly against Sebastian's loose grip, moving against him.

The belt went missed - not drastically needed - from James's other hand as it snaked up to join the other. Non-too gently he tugged Sebastian down the last few inches to suck on his tongue.

He still planned on using it to tie Sebastian's hands to the headboard. This was just currently demanding more of his attention and he wouldn't begrudge dear Sebastian that.

"James." The word was breathed when he was pulled down. The lips on his were always welcome. He kissed James back, letting his tongue be pulled into James's mouth.

Sebastian pushed his hand up to curl his fingers around the other man's side. His other hand slid around that prick, rubbing one side while he arched slightly to rub his length against James's. The word he'd said before came back to him, and he almost laughed into the kiss.

Anything.

Yes. Anything. Anything for James.

Whether professional or personal. God above if he cared. He deepened the kiss, rubbing a few more times as his eyes temporarily slid shut.

A quiet intake of breath -- not quite a gasp, not so urgent as that ... but close as he felt the way Sebastian pulsed against him. It was delicious. Suddenly James's plans to immobilize his hands - tie them to the headboard with that belt; leather cutting into skin. His plans to get him off slowly and languorously while he couldn't touch anything or change the game, could only lie back and let James do what he would...suddenly that all seemed a much higher priority with the kiss that bordered on violent and calm and the feel of Sebastian's cock sliding against his.

His hips bucked once to rub a bit harder. Twice as he spoke to Sebastian's lips. "Roll over on your back." His teeth ran against the sniper's cheek, mouthing the skin there.

"Now," he growled.

"Anything you say," he muttered, drawing back and up, bringing his hand along James's length once more before he got off the man. For now, there was compliance. Then again, he'd said the fatal words earlier tonight, too. And dangerous as they were... he didn't regret them in the slightest.

Off James, he finishing obeying and rolled over, lying on the bed on his back.

James smiled in that hideously smug fashion he seemed to hold exclusively to his own person before drawing up to meet Sebastian. He didn't copy his dear hitman's position he previously held, but sat between his legs with his arousal plain and regretfully ignored for the moment. But it'd be worth it.

Very slowly his fingernails drew up over Sebastian's hipbone where he left tiny red marks from moments before. He pressed a little harder than the feather-light strokes he'd been applying on the skin of his thigh going toward that particular spot. He continued to trail the sharp edge of his nails up his stomach, up his chest, and up to wrap his talon fingers around Sebastian's throat and he gave a light squeeze while wrapping his lips around the man's right nipple and laving it with his tongue.

Sebastian gave soft, quiet mutters as those nails moved up his body. Small pinpricks, never enough to draw blood. Not this time, at least. James had, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not, cut him with those nails. Sharp pressure that mixed pleasure and pain.

Then James had his hands on his throat. Sebastian overruled his first instincts to struggle. The very first time it had happened, he'd worried. By now, he knew James could and would control himself. Sebastian had long since accepted that he was safest like this-- in private with James.

The feel of those lips brought a groan from Sebastian, and he curled a hand around James's side.

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