The Start of Eras
THE START OF ERAS
PART 3 of THE PRINCE AND PAUPER
Summary: His addiction had to start somewhere. Jim purred against John’s mouth. He wished he could do that every day. Tasting. He finally found his omega.
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: Jim Moriarity x John Watson
A/N: This Part3 is dedicated to nosetothewind94. Pls view nose’s wonderful art in this LINK : http://archiveofourown.org/works/1356790.
I stopped writing for a long, long time. I can't even give any excuse. It was seeing nose’s art about my Dance of Wolves that made me want to pick up the pen again and write Johnlock. Seriously, I owe nose. ^^
This fic is still not beta’d. All mistakes are on me. On my knees*
(I hope this one does not feel rushed.)
I feel so out of practice... but then again, we don't need practice in expressing love ^^
/If it feels good,
tastes good,
It must be mine,
-The Emperor’s New Clothes. /
*
It was raining heavily when Jim Moriarty found him.
Jim’s heart would pound ecstatically whenever that fateful day crosses his mind in remembrance. That was how it was. Jim found him. Jim did not meet him. ‘Meet’ seemed so shallow a word to describe his relationship with John Watson, after all. Nothing relating to his John could be trivial, could mean so little, or could be undervalued. That Jim found him implied a gratifying sense of belongingness and ownership. Because John was-is his. If Jim could, he’d garnish
the very ground his little blonde omega walks on with flower petals, diamonds and gold and desiccated limbs. It would have been wonderful.
It was raining heavily when Jim Moriarty found him. The dark clouds had cloaked the whole city of Scowall and the moon was scarcely visible. He remembered the cold clinging dreadfully on his skin and the heavy drizzle swallowing all forms of sound as the droplets hit the cobbled ground. Back then, Jim found himself in a territory he didn’t recognize. He had snuck out again. He had been exploring the dark underground passages of the castle like how he’d always done when he found a path he hadn’t bother to take before. It led him to one of the most unsavoury areas of Scowall. It was the bit the City does not recognize and thus shamefully hides from the other neighbouring places. Jim had known it immediately that he found the place. Even the rain couldn’t wash out the foul smell of poverty and crime. He remembered how he thought it was the very ground where the Jim Moriarty would truly start. His playground. The place will be his stage. Everyone starts with baby steps after all. What he had not known at that point was that his discovery would also lead him to the wolf who would change the course of his life.
Jim wound his way through the dirty alleys. He explored. He marvelled. He sniffed his nose in disgust every now and then. He inhaled the scent of the place and drunk all the details his dark eyes light upon. He walked and lived the place until he was dead sure he had a map imprinted inside his head, until he could see a vivid imitation of the paths he threaded on whenever he closed his eyes. He had, in any case, decided he would own the place. He would be the true King of that forgotten and forsaken residence. The whole town would smell of him sooner or later. He had these ideas inside his head.
He had plans.
He threaded his way very cautiously, insidiously. His age was a disadvantage. While nothing was impossible, he found it bothersome to skirt around when he could’ve executed things far more efficiently the way he pictured things inside his head. He needed to be careful and observant. He wasn’t that powerful yet. And so Jim was being sly and stealthy with the shadows of the walls serving as his cover when he finally walked in on a brawl where upon his young John Watson was engaged with.
It was not instantaneous. He had not immediately known then that he’d want a claim on John Watson. It wasn’t love at first love or some similar shit.
Jim watched closely, eyes, for some irrational reason, trained on the blonde boy with a knapsack who had his back against the wall. It was a very reckless predicament to find yourself in when you are outnumbered by older and bigger men… or by men who lived in the place you find yourself cornered in. It was clear as day to Jim that the blonde kid did not live in this place of the City.
Jim held himself and watched. The blonde boy’s eyes were darting around, clearly searching for an escape. It was of no use. He was absolutely cornered. There was no use calling for help as well-not when the rain seemed to want to pour heavily and eternally. Not that anyone who might notice would want to intervene in any case. They were in that part of the City where crime probably was just a breeze in the wind. The boy, he was younger than Jim. He was at the age where wolves first discover their gender. It was difficult to ascertain the blonde’s gender from his distance, not when the humid air had a permanent stench to it. Jim already knew the boy was a were. His instinct never failed him. It was a gift. Even before the evidence was under his nose, he would know if someone was human or not. There was something about the boy that was especially wild and steady and solid. Jim found himself bracing with the uncontainable anticipation. There was something about the boy that was totally captivating. He was excited for a reason he could not explain. He was engrossed with witnessing how the scene would unfold.
The boy’s clear blue eyes were glaring defiantly at his assailants. He swiped at his forehead to clear his damp fringes off his eyes. His lean arm was trembling. The poor kid was unmistakably frightened. He had every reason to be. He seemed so ordinary. So little in the face of his adversaries. Even so, Jim watched him clench his fist on his sides and grit his teeth like how a four legged form would bare its fangs. The boy opened his mouth and snarled. He said something to his assailants which Jim could not make out of the torrential rain.
It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.
Jim wanted to know what the exchanged words were. Badly.
And then it happened. The blonde little wolf leapt and practically threw his whole weight at one of the men. The brute fell on his back, head hitting the cobbled ground. The boy was already swinging his fist in the air, eyes savage and intent of hurting. He swung at his opponent’s face, one fistful after the other. He was fighting recklessly and beautifully. But then the other man who had been initially frozen by the surprise attack caught his bearings. He kicked at the boy’s side, throwing him off the beaten man. The boy fell on the ground with a thud. He howled in pain and clutched at his side, wincing.
The other man approached the boy but before he could lay another finger, Jim Moriarty was already on him. Out of nowhere. Jim struck with precision. Jim was older than the blonde boy but then Jim was also younger and smaller than the two attackers. There was no way he could’ve defeated anyone of them with bare strength. Not that he even considered it. Jim’s lips were curved into a predatory smile as he felt his blade pierce through flesh, onto the man’s side. He trembled in excitement as he slid his dagger deeper, eyes fluttering, feeling the organs rip open. It was so easy, killing a man. He had not known before… but it was so very easy as he imagined. He also didn’t know it could feel so exhilarating, so fulfilling.
He could have ended one there and then.
Jim back pedalled and tore himself from the human brute before the other could clutch at him reflexively. Jim didn’t want the man’s dirty hands on him. He watched, pleased, as the man fell on his knees, hands trembling and fear sculptured on his old face as he started down at the knife sticking on his torso. It was raining, but Jim was sure there were tears on his eyes.
“I wouldn’t pull the knife off if I were you,” Jim stated matter of factly, head tilting to his side and eyes with detached interest. He found it fascinating, the glint of his blade under the moonlight and the slow dribble of blood as it mixed with the rain.
The other man the boy had initially beaten has eventually gotten up and ran to his comrade’s side. He looked between his accomplice, the dagger sticking out and then at Jim. His eyes were wide with terrified, bewildered recognition.
“Hmm,” Jim hummed, his smile extending to his eyes. “You aren’t dumb are you?”
“You… you’re…”
Jim was aware of the shuffling behind him. Ahh yes. The boy was already recovered. He glanced back at him and saw the boy witnessing the exchange of conversation.
“Well,” Jim drawled, “do you not need to take your friend somewhere?”
Jim did not bother with the grown men any more than necessary. They were inconsequential. One was likely to die soon anyway, what with his guts being ripped open, and Jim could always find them later if he wanted to. They had this foul smell you can always trace when needed. He turned his back on them, confident that there would not be any attack anymore, and instead placed his attention to what mattered most. Then again, even if the men did plan on anything underhanded, the blonde boy was apparently already looking out for him.
Jim stared down at the boy with renewed hunger. He kind of felt irked that the other wasn’t paying any attention to him. He also felt moved that the boy kept glaring warily on the men and watched them shuffle away. It was only when the men’s footsteps have all but faded within earshot that the boy started to properly look at him.
“Turning your back on them,” the boy muttered irritably, “are you stupid?”
Jim couldn’t help it. The edge of his lips twitched. That wasn’t what he expected.
“That was dangerous,” the boy further admonished.
Yes, Jim couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the endorphins or the rush of adrenaline from the earlier scuffle. His smile spread onto his face before he exploded into a full blown laughter.
Dangerous.
Dangerous, he said. That really was funny. Didn’t the boy just see him gut someone with a dagger? There was a sense of giddiness in Jim as he shook with mirth, his shadows looming over the boy who was still kneeling on the ground, hands on his sore side. Jim laughed as the boy continued to scowl at him. He laughed as the boy looked at him with eyes of naked curiosity.
But then Jim noticed how the boy’s nose finally twitched in apprehension, noticed how the boy’s guard started to build up against him. This boy was a wolf after all. He’d have caught and recognized the coppery smell of blood. Jim knew when the other started remembering, albeit belatedly, that Jim was the stranger who planted a knife in a grown man’s torso without any form of remorse. Jim saw his reflection on the younger boy’s blue eyes. There was a manic glint in Jim’s eyes even as his lips were curved to a smile.
The boy held his breath. Good instinct, Jim thought.
“Your name,” Jim inquired sharply the soonest that he reined in his butterflies of laughter.
“John,” the boy answered promptly, staring at Jim with levelled gaze. Scared. The boy had his hands clenched into fists now. Jim wondered if it was a habit whenever the boy thought he would engage in a fight.
“John,” Jim carefully tasted the name in his tongue.
“T-thank you,” John said to him. John’s eyes never strayed away even when Jim was fairly sure that the latter was fighting the impulse to avert his eyes. The boy’s shackles were raised. Good instincts, Jim marvelled yet again. But also very polite, the boy was. John still recognized him as his saviour.
Good, Jim thought to himself. All good.
“Aren’t you going to pay me, in exchange for saving your life?” Jim tested. He extended a hand. He was gratified when John took it. Jim was taller than him.
“I don’t have money on me,” John answered honestly. “Didn’t you think I’d have given them what they wanted and stayed away from trouble instead?”
“Your knapsack,”
“There’s nothing of value,” John cut in hastily and defensively, teeth flashing in the dim light.
Jim mused. It was still raining but when he folded his arm and sniffed at the hand which John touched, he caught a trace scent. There was suddenly an indescribable ache in his stomach. John was an omega. The smell was almost washed away just as quickly but there was no mistake in its raw, maddening sweetness. This John was an omega and he had just had his first heat. Jim caught all of that from his scent. It all made sense now. Jim didn’t have to wonder about the encounter. It also explained the boy’s constant glaring and impossible sense of guardedness. This wonderful boy was an omega. Jim wanted to moan. But then he almost wanted to howl. He remembered how those men have hurt him.
“I… I really have to go,” John ventured.
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