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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He went through the business of how utterly pedestrian the scheme had been before he took a hold of the project - and of course how inept the people asking him to arrange this. The actual digging under the bank, the extraction and the get-away car for a not so small fee. He usually did this at meals; explained things to Sebastian. He never, ever asked if he wanted to hear them. He didn't much care either. But he wanted the outlet.

He talked and talked all through dinner and -finally finished he leaned back in his seat. And got to the real crux of the evening.

"So. Your mother asked you to invite me, did she?"

This had the hint of turning bad.

If Sebastian minded being told these things, he didn't show it. Rather, he leaned forward when James spoke. He knew when to ask questions and when to listen in silence. He'd worried the first time he'd been curious, feared that asking anything might lead him to be expendable... but James seemed to enjoy the audience of one.

When James leaned back and changed the subject, Sebastian could not help but be wary. He had not forgotten the coolness with which James had greeted the mention of the whole thing earlier. Carefully, he nodded.

"She did."

James nodded a bit before moving onto his next question.

"What have you told her?"

He wanted specifics. If it was going to take wheedling or any form of manipulation on his part he wouldn't be against doing so.

Sebastian looked at James, considering the question for a moment. His first reply was decided against. He almost said that he'd told her he would ask. But a second thought made him consider that... James wasn't asking that.

"She knows I live with my employer, Jim Moore." That was, after all, the name on all Sebastian's payroll checks. A perfectly legitimate paper trail to a private bodyguard of a wealthy man. "She also knows that on my days off-- since I hardly want to spend free time where I work-- I crash with a friend-- James Moriarty." And that was all he'd described James as in that regard. A friend. "My employer is wealthy but paranoid. Not likely to be in any real danger, but he thinks he is." It made her less prone to worrying about him. "My friend is something of a tech expert. Doesn't drink usually. Whole different sort of guy from most of my old Army buddies."

He spoke as casually as he could. He would not let himself assume that James might even be considering it.

He didn't try to hide any laughter on his part. The little name trick was simple but it was...something of a matter of pride in his choice of bodyguard. When he finished, James had to resist the urge to clap.

"Well done, darling. Well done." If there were any doubts in the legitimacy of what Sebastian was telling him it didn't show. He seemed to be banking that this was well thought out and not something just thought up on the spot.

"And your answer, hm? What'd you tell dear old mum?"

'James' was a common enough name. To have a friend and boss with the same first name was hardly a shocking thing, and it made things so much easier. It was the first rule of lying-- keep things simple. And he had to carefully balance everything he told his family. Too much information, and they could ruin everything and put themselves at risk. Too little information, and they might pry.

The term of endearment made him smile briefly, even if it caused a certain tension in him at the same time. James used those with friend and foe alike, and Sebastian hoped his position was not likely to change so suddenly, but he knew better than to assume it couldn't.

"I just told her I'd ask, if I thought I might be free for Christmas."

James hummed his understanding, his eyes drifted down to the crumb adorned plate and the fork that rested on it. Idly he reached for it and flipped it around in his thin fingers. There are moments, as he handles it, that it looks like he might grasp it more firmly - curl his fingers into a fist around it. But he never does. His eyes are wide and incredibly vacant; to say that they're the window to the soul would be a horrible lie as there is nothing there to see.

Or perhaps that's horribly accurate.

"Come over here, Sebastian." His voice was quiet and lacking in the usual dramatic inflections he tended to enjoy.

Sebastian knew it would only be worse if he stalled. Part of him wondered whether to be worried or relieved that it wasn't the steak knife in James's hand. Still, with only minute hesitation, he rises from his seat at the table and walks around to stand near the other man's chair.

"Yes, James?"

Here there were two ways this could end. Two different things could happen now; one route ensuring scars and the other avoiding them entirely. With his free hand James reached up to curl his fingers in the fabric of Sebastian's shirt and tug him closer to where he was sitting, he didn't quite feel like moving at the moment but when his wary soldier came close enough James passed the tip of his tongue against his lips before kissing him.

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."

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