Sebastian Moran (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
precisionfocus) wrote2011-12-22 02:49 pm
precisionfocus) wrote2011-12-22 02:49 pm
< 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."
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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He was not James Moriarty. He could never compare with James Moriarty. Yet... Birds of a feather. His mother had always said that. He'd gone through three seconds, the first two asking to be transferred after getting into the field with Sebastian Moran. The second, a young woman, had told him why she wanted to transfer. Because she'd watched him at his gun, watched him sight a target, and watched him pull the trigger. She said she'd seen a flash in his eyes. Sebastian knew his C.O. had half laughed at her, but he knew what she meant. The thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the kill. As a soldier, that could be kept in check, harnessed. He could be sent after very specific people.
But then they'd taken that away from him... and James Moriarty had found him. Moulded him. Sebastian was not fool enough to claim that he was the same man now that he had been when he'd been in the Army. He was certainly a different man than the one who had received notice of how to collect his pension. Some of that-- the lack of booze-- was his own doing... but so much was James. Subtly pulling the strings to make him into something else. Into what he wanted him to be.
Sebastian breathed out at the initial attentions and groaned when James's lips were on his cock. He looked briefly down at James, meeting his eyes... but his own soon rolled back as his mouth parted again. He twisted his hands, seeking to grasp the loose leather of the belt. Not to try and free himself, no, but to anchor himself, keep his hips from rolling up. If he showed too much of an interest... James might stop to tease him more thoroughly.
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He began to rub his mouth all against the head of Sebastian's cock, catching on the corners of his lips. His fingers are careful at his base with his hold but suddenly he squeezes and very slowly his lips parted and took tip into the wet red-hot of his mouth. He just keeps going too, taking more of Sebastian between his lips before he pulls off in a long suck that ends with a lewd pop. His hand swipes up and down the length of Sebastian's cock while his tongue flicks out to lick at the tip, chasing bits of his own spit.
"How are you, darling?" The way he says the endearment it sounds like he's been screaming; voice gone horse, all growls and no lilt.
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"Holy shit," he muttered in response to James, even if it wasn't much of a proper reply. His hand tightened around part of the belt that held his wrists, his nails digging into the leather rather than the skin of his own palm. "God."
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The burn in his throat is worth taking in all of Sebastian like that. Bruising his lips on him and moaning around his prick so his cheeks vibrate with it as they hollow out on a particular pull up. His thumb traces at the sharp but shallow indent of Sebastian's waist as his tongue runs over the slit at the head - fucking teasing him again and he has the gall to smile while watching Sebastian's face for something, anything. A glimmer.
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Sebastian could bear any of the harsh words James threw at him without much reaction. But pleasure was a different matter. For pleasure, he would tilt his head back, groan, and arch under the attentions.
God.
Getting head from James Moriarty was a rare occurrence. Giving and receiving, really, for both of them. All the more reason to revel in the attentions. He was very, very sure he would pay dearly for how enjoyable this was.
"Christ, James."
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James ducked his head to lick in quick, delicate strokes at the sensitive skin directly under Sebastian's prick. It might have been accidental that James's lips wrapped around his balls - but that wasn't James. His tongue stroked at the flesh in his mouth and he moaned to make it vibrate through his testicles.
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The name left him on a groan, equal parts curse and invocation. He pulled at the restraints around his wrists, only succeeding in tightening them, as his body drew up against the attention. What part of his mind could think about it tried to reason how to free his hands so he could lead that mouth back up and push that head down, get his prick back into James's mouth. But rational, strategic thought was difficult to maintain with that tongue and mouth and those moans against his skin.
"Fuck."
The well-educated soldier? Can manage nothing more articulate, tilting his head back to groan.
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He wants to work Sebastian up until he's just about to come, right on that edge. And stop. Leaving him teetering until he falls back down again to bring him back up to that defining point of pleasure until Sebastian is absolutely mad and writhing and begging James to let him come.
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But that's what makes it fun. What makes Sebastian quite opposed to offering any sort of complaint.
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His head continues to bob up and down and he breaths slowly from his nose when he can, otherwise silent until he takes his mouth off Sebastian to just breath and a thin line of spit dangles from his lips - now swollen and much too red - before his tongue darts out to lick at the head of Sebastian's leaking cock just twice, slow and the noises he makes are pornographic. As his tongue laves the tip of his prick his hand moves up and down the shaft in tight, jerking motions.
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His hips roll up and down, following those strokes and seeking the heat of that mouth and tongue. His hands twist the leather binding them as his head leans back. Close. So very close. The feel, sight, and sound is almost overwhelming, but God, it's good.
"James. God, James."
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The moment lasts forever and for one second before James moves again; working at Sebastian like he's gagging for it - maybe he is. He just moans around the ache in his jaw, the burn in his throat, the slap of balls against his chin — getting wet and sticky, saliva and precome.
He feels at Sebastian until he recognizes that tensing of muscles in his thighs - that signal that he's about to come - and stops abruptly. Pulls off of him and sits back with possibly the most horrible grin someone could walk away from giving head with.
"Finish yourself off." He sounded unaffected despite the evidence of his arousal and that shit-eating grin on his face. But there he is. James isn't touching Sebastian or going anywhere near him. He's going to make him try to wank himself off with his hands tied.
It's then that James rolls off the bed, practically ignoring whatever Sebastian may be doing and grabs the bottle of lube from the drawer in one of the bedside tables. He drips some onto his fingers before sitting down on the bed again, facing Sebastian with his legs spread.
He wanted Sebastian to watch.
He smeared the liquid around on the pads of his fingers to warm it before rubbing the digits against his entrance in small circles. His mouth went slack, eyes heavy, and his cock twitched in response to the combination of the cold and heat from his own skin. Christ, he wanted Sebastian touching him instead, but patience would make it more fun. James could barely stand it though.
If Sebastian didn't get himself free.... he'd just wank himself off. But God he wanted Sebastian to get at him. He didn't realize how hard he'd been until now, it was almost painful having gone untouched for the entire blow-job. James almost started to say Sebastian's name but thought better of it - he wanted to watch. Wanted to see what Sebastian would do on his own initiative.
James sighed; if he wasn't incentive enough...well, he'd be more disappointed. The muscles in his ass had relaxed enough to the point where upon making another pass, his fingers slipped in together and James moaned quietly at the feel. "Fuck." His hips jerked forward, trying to take in more but there wasn't anything to take in so he was simply thrusting into the air - trying to impale himself on his fingers and not quite hitting the right spots to make him see spots behind his eyelids but enough to make him purr.
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The words are out of his mouth almost the moment James pulls away. Right on the edge, a few seconds away from sweet relief. Then the heat and the pressure and the tongue and the hands are gone, and he's left with only James's taunt.
His wrists and hands work at the belt holding them almost at once, though the movements are calm, thought out... until James is fingering himself. There are very, very few things that could be more arousing than watching the always-in-control James Moriarty try to get properly fucked without a cock inside him.
Sebastian works at the restraint quicker, but he knows he cannot rush. A hurry will only tighten the bonds. Careful-- careful--
One hand free is all it takes. The other has more than enough room then to slide out.
Part of him wants to take James at his word. Finish yourself off. Lean back against the headboard and jack off to watching the show in front of him. But... but that's not what he wants.
It's a quiet, almost animal sound. Something between a purr and a growl. He moves forward, up onto his knees, taller than the other man even like this. One hand slides behind the other man's neck, gripping, while the other finds the wrist of the hand he's using to get inside himself. He slides his fingers gently across the back of the hand before wrapping them around it on a move out, holding it tight to prevent him from pushing those fingers back in.
"Such a goddamn tease," he mutters-- half purr, half growl-- into the mastermind's ear.
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"What took you so long?" he hisses, managing to sound at least partially irritated if it weren't for that whine in his voice that is demanding more.
Most of the time James is buttoned up in suits that make him look untouchable, and even when he isn't, he's still got a shield around himself, some aura of confidence and danger that's basically the same thing.
But not now. Now, James's stripped bare of everything but the need, of the heat. Rolling up to rub against Sebastian with sweat beading on his back. Since he can't wriggle his hand out of Sebastian's grip he'll settle for writhing against him and the heavy, still wet line of his erection.
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He managed to keep his expression steady. Not an easy feat with the way James rubbed against him, stoking the fire that was nearly out of control in him. His hand on James's wrist slid its fingers against his, applying a bit of the lube still on them to his own skin. Then, with a smirk, he moved his hand... still mostly holding onto James's. He led-- or pushed-- it up, back where it was. Putting two of James's fingers back in him, then adding his fore and middle finger as well.
"You want it." The predator was out in full force, brought by restraints, denied pleasure, and the taunting. And it was starving. "All your games. Your control. But what you want right now is to be fucked."
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His voice is usually so pleasing to listen to - especially when it gets like this: all growls and gravel - predatory. If James had any good sense he'd feel frightened but it only serves to rile him. He grins and growls, uses his free hand to reach up and thread through Sebastian's hair to tug meanly on his scalp. Inviting a fight, inviting him to absolutely lose it.
"Just shut up and fuck me."
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It's a fight he gets.
Sebastian digs his nails into the flesh on the back of that neck, moves his hand back to tilt James's head further. He removes his other hand, releases his hold on James's wrist, and sits up a bit more to lean slightly over the other man. To look him right in the eyes.
"No." As if he were always the one calling the shots. As if he was in total control. That lasts only as long as this does... but all of this has made him hungry and bold. His now free hand snakes between his body and James's, and he runs the pad of his thumb not-so-lightly over the head of the mastermind's prick. He applied a bit more pressure to the back of the man's neck, this time drawing him forward. "You get what you want after you finish what you started."
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He's left breathing in heavy, even pants when Sebastian pulls him up and something wild flashes in James eyes; glassy and pupils blown out, when Sebastian speaks. The smile that crawls out, showing all his teeth in a shark's grin, looks detached. And it would be if not for the way he snarls at the man holding him up. His hand still fisted in his hair.
"That an order?"
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...But James had started the power game. Sebastian would rise to the challenge.
"Just an... arrangement." It's a cat's smile on his face, all-knowing and sure. He rarely gets smug with James, but the feeling is tainted now only by desire. His voice is heavy with it, his mouth watering for the taste of James's lips and skin. "I get what I want, you get what you want. Simple business."
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"Arrangement?" He chuckled, the sound breathy. "You make me sound like a whore, darling."
Of course, he didn't sound like he minded. At the moment. It's then that his fingers slip, detach from the strands of his scalp and slide down the line of his cheekbones. He's very honestly tempted to slap him. Rile him. And his fingers tense to do it but all he does is lick at his lips - already slick enough with spit and Sebastian still lingering there.
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"If anyone's the whore," he murmurs, not sounding particularly bothered by the fact either, "I'm afraid it'd be me. You're the one who signs my cheques, after all."
He tightened his grip behind James's head as his hand on his prick loosened its hold and then pulled away entirely. Sebastian moved back slightly, taking in the full look at James again, making no secret of the way his eyes raked over the other. He chuckled again.
"So. What'll it be?"
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His index finger falls down past his neck, over his chest where those scars lay, across his stomach to trace around the line of his cock against his skin before trailing his finger from base to tip in forced slowness.
"Seems you've forced my hand."
It's possibly the most ridiculous thing he could say at this moment in time, but it slips from his mouth and his smirk as he sits up a bit and fists Sebastian's cock in his hand; pumps up and down.
He still plans to stop at just the right moment. Just to fuck with Sebastian. After all that is what he set out to do: ruin him.
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That alone is enough to drive most other thoughts from his mind. A low, deep groan leaves him as his hips move vaguely with the touch. God. He knows it, yet he thinks it every time that man touches him: James is good with his hands.
But... He isn't sure he'll be allowed much more. They both know who's really in control here. But he can try. His hand behind James's head presses its nails into his neck again. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to be felt. ...And he presses against the neck, rather than pulling back.
James is good with his hands; he's even better with his mouth.
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... and simply opens his mouth wide as he can, tongue covering his bottom teeth and peeking out over his lips. He doesn't move forward, or move at all for that matter, he just sits there looking at Sebastian with a guileless look to his wide brown eyes. Which is a skill unto itself given the situation.
He's going to leave it to Sebastian to figure it out. Can't spell everything out for him.
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His hips roll up slightly but settle. Like hell he's going to risk the balance it would take to do what James might only be mockingly suggesting. His hand moves to the other man's rather neglected cock, and he curls his fingers around the top of it, stroking the head in slow circles with the pad of his thumb. Two can play the game of teasing.
He chuckles again. "Hope you don't think I'm just going to let you go at it. When," though it could easily be 'if,' he'd at least sound definitive, "you get back to it... I plan to fuck that mouth of yours properly."
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