Work Text:
Sherlock didn’t know how he was reduced to this writhing mess under the lapping hot breath of the one and only Jim Moriarty.
It happened in the confines of 221b. Moriarty came down for a tense cup of tea and a even tenser chat. They both found other things to indulge in rather than the tea. Sherlock noticed how whenever he spoke his words came off as sexual gratification to the madman. He went farther and deeper, straining his words and giving tight-lipped smiles at how the psychopath tried to compose himself. It was indubitably amusing. He shifted his legs, gripping his knees until his knuckles turned white, and cocking his head the the side and breathing hard. He was about to say another threatening message to Sherlock - in an attempt to taunt him. He didn’t know why he kept trying to cover his arousal.
And with that, Sherlock let his cup and saucer slam down on the coffee table next to him an he rushed over to Moriarty. Looking down at him and taking no pauses he leaned down and positioned his head next to the man and letting his breath tickle his ear while he propped himself up by placing both hands firmly on the arms of the chair, entrapping him.
“You enjoy this, no?” Sherlock groaned in his rich voice into the shell of Jim’s ear, breathing wildly in anticipation and excitement.
Jim only moaned in response and pushed his head against Sherlock’s, breathing heavily on him, and Sherlock fumbled to stay upright. “Oh - god” Sherlock panted and realized that he loved Jim’s breath on him. And with Sherlock’s stressed words came another pant and moan from Jim. Slamming his eyes shut and gripping at Sherlock’s wrists that were planted to the arms of the chair.
“James Moriarty—” Sherlock started, interrupted by more hard pants in his ear “I - those - I love those incredibly helpless pants a moans you’re making.” He growled into Jim’s ear,pushing his teeth into the shell of it. Jim heaved and whimpered,clutching the collar of Sherlock’s suit and holding him there,dragging his lips across Sherlock’s own ear and letting his hot breath devour the detective’s ear. Both of them were eaten over by overpowering lust. Both of their eyes shut from their small capacity of self control. Well—Sherlock usually has control over everything—but not when a man in indulging his kink—and it seemed he was indulging Jim’s as well.
“Sher—Sherlock” Jim groaned internally and clawed at Sherlock’s wrists that seemed to be surgically attached to either arms of the chair. Sherlock was caving in on Jim and Jim loved it. This was truly how to indulge. Jim’s cock was growing in his strained pants. He slid down in the chair and rutted his groan against Sherlock’s knee. “Yes” He moaned breathlessly and bucked his hips to Sherlock’s knee again.
“Dirty little slut aren’t you?” Sherlock grinned and Jim bit his lip and furrowed his brow—trying not to yell out.
“You love it - being so fucking helpless and all I have to do is talk to you - tell you how I see you.” Sherlock panted into Jim’s ear and smirked against it. "That's why you act like your in control. To find someone who would stand up to it - because you know that's the only type of person who could ever make you moan."
"About -ah-" Lick of his ear. "time." Jim choked out and swallowed hard.
"I can make you moan like I make John moan." Sherlock groaned.
Jim was always one for being more powerful - he loved this - but he also hated it deeply. He was helpless and reckless and Sherlock found that hot - especially his desperate pants. How much more would he have to endure before coming? Did he have to bring John into this?
"Shut up about John, for fuck's sake." Jim begged and licked Sherlock's ear, it tasted of salt and a bit minty.
Jim swallowed and opened his eyes, letting his breath tickle Sherlock’s ear, he saw goosebumps rise after he just blew on the spot that he licked. Smirking and desperate, he slid further down,groaning as he did because of the friction of their cocks grinding together through fabric - so close. Sherlock tried to lean down further to tease him more but Jim laid a hand on his chest and stopped him abruptly. Staring up at the detective he smirked a little and Sherlock’s face contorted into a look of pure confusion.
“Not yet.” came his words firmly and he pushed against Sherlock’s chest, making the taller man back off the chair and stumble to the coffee table, falling onto it. Immediately Jim laid on him with both of his hands on either side of Sherlock’s head, studying him as if he was the most interesting thing in the world right now - well he was. Sherlock looked up at him skeptically but didn’t speak. Suddenly Jim moved roughly against Sherlock, jutting their hips together and Sherlock’s eyes fluttered to the back of his head, his lids heavy with want. Yet Sherlock still didn’t know how he was reduced to a writing mess under his said arch-nemesis.
Fin