(no subject)
Title: Crack in the Teacup
Author: nota_faerietale
Characters: Holmes and Moriarty
Word Count: 2667
Series: Training the Pet
Rating: Adult for drug use and force
Warnings: Drug use, slash, sexual explicitness
Summary: Moriarty finds that his little game is progressing nicely.
Anger at Sherlock's denial had kept Jim away longer than even he had planned. Twice he had started for the door, snorting as he remembered the way Holmes had turned away from him, and he'd turned back the way he'd come. In the end, it was nearly sixteen hours before he returned and actually opened the door. No needle in hand, nothing to hint that a day and a half earlier he had bribed Sherlock, offering a hit for sex. Just a tray in hand that he set down within range of the bed.
"As I understanding from my observations you somehow survive on tea and tea alone," he said, pausing only long enough to check his pet's pulse before heading for the door. Holmes did not move though his heart was beating, if a bit erratic. "I brought you soup as well. You may wish to eat before your system shuts down."
With that he closed the door, locking it behind him.
***
Four hours later he returned, mostly to ensure that his guest hadn't found a way to escape this game by drowning himself in tea and broth. He certainly hadn't expected to find Sherlock sitting up, the plastic mug empty and Holmes' eyes much the same. Still, despite the dark circles, the hollow look and the way he was scratching the crook of his arm raw, blood staining his nail beds, he still tried desperately to maintain his former demeanor.
"What I can't seem to determine, and I will blame the drug you've administered for that slight, is why you must use sex to humiliate me. There are many more ways, one that would certainly be more mentally painful to an asexual being such as myself, so I'm coming to assume that the sex has little to do with your humiliation of me as much as it does some perverse taste you have." His voice wasn't as smooth as it once had been, more hesitations as pale eyes went unfocused, torn between pain and a sudden hunger that had his gaze darting over Moriarty's jacket as if he could see what might lay within the pockets. "Is it just men? Forcing another to service you? Strung out and drug addled? You are working hard to make heroin my poison, so what is yours?" Elbows on his knees, Sherlock steepled his fingers and peered up at his captor as if to study him but he couldn't hide the look of hunger in his eyes.
Smiling, Jim pulled up his chair just out of reach from Holmes, settling into the seat and carefully crossing his legs. Smoothing out the crease in his trousers, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a fresh, filled syringe. Holding it aloft a moment, assuring Holmes he had it, Jim slid it back into his pocket.
"You." He smiled, folding his arms over his chest. "Isn't that what every great ego wants to hear? Of all the men and women in the world, all the eager and willing little partners I might have who would do each and everything I wanted willingly and with such eagerness, you're the one I can't seem to get off my mind. Even tried finding pretty boys who bear your same dark hair and pale eyes but it was never the same." He said the words smoothly, almost as if they were practiced. In truth he couldn't think of a better humiliation for someone as utterly uninterested in sex than Holmes, though to reveal that belief would mean telling his guest just how far he planned to take this and to do that would ruin everything.
"I suspected you might well take death before performing as the good puppy I'm certain you can be, so I did feel the need to ensure that you would do just what I want. I can see already that you're eager for the next hit, Sherlock. How hard has it been? May I ask a question?" He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he continued on as if he hadn't asked a pair of questions rather than a single one. "Are you truly upset that I've given you this addiction back, or have you found it to be a relief that you can indulge in this hunger without being blamed for your actions?"
"You assume I need you to clear the path for me, Moriarty. If a life of debauchery was my choice, I would have it. If I wished to still be an addict, I would be. You believe your place in my life is so great that I need you to approve such activities for me?" As Sherlock so often did, he turned one emotion and pain into another.
He tsked, shaking his head. "No, I do not believe it is my place in your life that stops you from such things. I believe that would be the doing of your darling Doctor Watson."
Another time, a place where he wasn't aching down to the marrow of his bones for something that was so close and yet the chasm of his morals away, Holmes might have been able to hide his shock at those words. That he couldn't hide it only made Jim glee, eyes brightening as he clapped his hands lightly.
"I knew it. I knew he was the one. Rather sweet, you know. The way he dotes on you, acting as your servant and exclaiming over the little things you do. I really thought, after all this time watching over you, that you would die a young man, bitter and alone. Along comes the doctor and you just gave away so much and yet you denied him so many things."
From another it might have sounded like a good friend trying to help John and Sherlock past their shyness. From himself Jim was certain it sounded like a threat. It made him smile wider.
Holmes seemed to have gotten the answers he wanted, refusing to comment. Pale, hollow eyes stared at Moriarty, betraying not so much as a hint of life. Time to change that. Reaching out, hesitant enough to be concerned of Holmes and his temporary bonds, he petted the other man as one might a dog. Except it wasn't his head with the unruly curls he strokes, staring into those slanted Siamese eyes. "You wish to go home to him. He must be frantic with worry over you. You desire another hit. All of that can be accomplished so easily."
Still his fingers played over the fly of Holmes' crotch, noting with amusement the lack of physical reaction from him. It wasn't anything he needed. That was what made his enjoyable.
"Is that your game then? Ensure I'm back to being a needful addict and then return me to John to witness the pain of him helping me through withdrawals? Do you believe he wouldn't stand by me?"
His touch stilled though stayed against the still damp fabric of his trousers. Jim laughed, a delighted sound as one might give a child that had said something truly adorable. "Oh, my sweet, darling pet. If only it was going to be that simple." Chuckling still, he rose, turning his back on Holmes and heading for the door. Despite his manner, he waited, expecting a voice that he wasn't entirely certain he would hear.
And then he did.
"I had thought..."
Moriarity paused between one step and the next but he didn't turn around. "You had thought what, pet?"
He heard the sharp intake of breath, the preparation for arguing that he was no one's pet. It was a protest that never came.
"I agree to your terms."
Only then did Moriarty turn back to face Sherlock, a lazy smile curving his lips. "Do you now. You agree to my terms." Stepping closer, he reseated himself though this time his legs remained uncrossed. "What terms would that be, pet?"
He watched Holmes closely, almost able to see the war going on in the consulting detective's head. Reaching into his pocket, Jim pulled out a small knife rather than the syringe that he was certain Holmes was desiring.
Leaning over Holmes, he sliced through the plastic of the tie with a quick jerk of his wrist. Something pressed against his fly. For a moment it was nothing more than that slight pressure and then heat, moisture and with a start Jim realized Holmes was taking the initiative, mouthing at the already hardening length of his cock through the silk of his trousers. A fine tremble went up the length of his spine and Moriarty fought hard for his own control.
"That doesn't actually answer my question," he noted, moving to sit back in his chair. Staring at Holmes, he stroked the damp spot and a soft groan. "But a good start. Explain the terms, pet, and we'll begin."
Despite his unwillingness to let Jim leave, and then the willingness to act for his hit, pale eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "I orally satisfy you and you provide me with another dose, thereby setting me up to repeat this cycle until either you become bored or I'm thankful enough to receive an overdose."
"So long as you understand." Sitting back, he undid his belt and button, slowly drawing down the zipper. "On your knees then. Before I would have left you on the bed but you did ruin that moment so..."
The war was waged without sound, glaring at one another until Holmes slid forward, dropping to his knees with a snap of his teeth.
"That's a good boy. I'm very proud of you," he murmured, hooking his thumb into the elastic waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. His cock wasn't overly long though thick, uncut and hard. Watching those full lips that he often thought of, he stroked himself once, drawing back the foreskin so that the head glistened with precome. "Even a hint of teeth and we'll start this all over again and you'll be going through withdrawals over the next month, back and forth."
Holmes nodded, once, hands sliding up over Jim's thighs. He sighed, shaking his head and slapped the back of Sherlock's hand sharply.
"No hands, pet. Show me your mouth is good for anything other than sarcasm and snark."
Hatred burned brightly in those pale eyes, staring up at Jim past dusky lashes as he clasped his hands behind his back. A lover might have nuzzled, showed affection through tiny flickers of their tongue and made a game of it. Holmes was offering none of that.
Arching up on his knees, he wrapped his lips around the wide head without preamble. He dipped his head, lips skittering over the dry flesh of Jim's cock as he tried to take as much as he could in a single motion. His mouth was dry as his lips, hot though and when the head of his cock hit the back of Sherlock's throat, he couldn't holding himself back. Holmes had been waiting days for his hit, but Jim had been fantasizing about this for weeks. Yet he made himself wait, watching the other man until he pulled away, sliding back down the length of Jim's cock slowly. He sighed.
"I admit, I wasn't expecting you to be good at this, all things considered, but it isn't as if being decent at it is so hard. Let me help." Tangling his fingers into the dark, matted curls, he pulled Holmes off him, holding him still as he bucked up his hips. "Mmm, that's it, pet. Much better."
Grunting, he kept moving, slamming into his pet's mouth time and again. It was exquisite, though not for the sensations as much as the sight before him. Full lips and pale eyes, loathing in his eyes though not once did Sherlock look away. Not even seeming to blink as he was held, used as a fuckdoll rather than participating in his own sexual awakening. Rocking steadily, fucking those beautiful lips with roughening strokes. Jim found his breath coming in quick, hard pants.
"That's it. Oh so good, pet. So close." Already he knew what it was he wanted, what he was going to take from him. "Come now, pet. Take it all."
The words were the only warning there was before he jerked Holmes down onto him, slamming up hard with a snap of his hips. It was cruel, a risk to his own safety but he wanted nothing more than to feel that tight heat of the self proclaimed sociopath's throat around his cock before he lost the last shreds of his control.
Pulling back, nearly jerking his cock free, Jim pushed back in as deep as he could, going still. "Come now, pet. Swallow and bring me off." Not that he was going to rely on Sherlock to do as he was told as he leaned over him, pushing himself deeper so that Jim could stroke Sherlock's throat.
Dark eyes locked with pale ones, the battle raging once more until the need to breathe won out over steely determination. He swallowed, muscles undulating over the head of Jim's cock. Intense, blinding pleasure shot through Moriarty, head thrown back as he pulled free of that tight heat. "Almost,' he whispered, giving his cock a quick stroke, another, moaning as his own fingers brushed over the head. Balls tightening up against his body, he didn't resist his own pleasure. His cock jerked, using his tight hold on Holmes' curl keeping him close as he came on his cheek, the second twitch of his cock sending his release over those sensual lips.
Shuddering, he leaned back into the chair, pushing his pet back with a grunt. "You'll learn,' he said, cock softening against his boxers as he tucked himself away, doing up his slacks and rebuckling his belt.
Holmes pulled the sheet from the bed preparing to clean himself off. Jim chuckled, breathless still. "Leave it or I'll take your treat with me,' he murmured, hand nearly in his inner pocket. He waited, watching Holmes. The sheet dropped to the floor. "Good boy."
Rising, he held out the syringe to his guest. "I'll watch," he said, standing over him. "I can't trust you with the needle, after all."
Sherlock to the needle, staring up at Jim. He shook his head, holding it up. "My hand..."
"Are you shaking too hard,' he asked with a pout, lower lip sticking out. "Did you wait too long. Awww, pet." Yet he took the needle back, shaking his head. "Maybe next time you'll behave and won't have to wait so long."
He took the needle, gesturing to the seat of the chair. Holmes looked down. In the light of the bare bulb overhead, the come on his face glistened as it dried. Jim itched to pull out his phone and have a picture. Not yet though. Not until he had his guest posing for them.
Sherlock brought his arm to rest on the seat, tensing slightly. Jim was nearly professional as he pushed the needle into his pet's arm. Unlike before he didn't play, didn't hesitate to enjoy the feel of resistance as flesh gave way to the needle. Every inch of his attention was focused on Sherlock's face. Injection, pushing down the plunger with deft fingers.
He jerked, pupils flaring before he could even truly be feeling the effects of the drug. It couldn't have hit him yet but the desire was there, the need for the bliss and oblivion that the drug would bring. A shame the dose was low, cut and mixed to bring a moment of euphoria and little more. There would be no waiting nearly a day before he continued chipping away at Holmes and his ego. Jim suspected it wouldn't take long before Sherlock began to give him what he wanted, eager to offer himself in exchange with the next hit.
He'd already begun to crack, but it wouldn't be long before he broke completely.
Author: nota_faerietale
Characters: Holmes and Moriarty
Word Count: 2667
Series: Training the Pet
Rating: Adult for drug use and force
Warnings: Drug use, slash, sexual explicitness
Summary: Moriarty finds that his little game is progressing nicely.
Anger at Sherlock's denial had kept Jim away longer than even he had planned. Twice he had started for the door, snorting as he remembered the way Holmes had turned away from him, and he'd turned back the way he'd come. In the end, it was nearly sixteen hours before he returned and actually opened the door. No needle in hand, nothing to hint that a day and a half earlier he had bribed Sherlock, offering a hit for sex. Just a tray in hand that he set down within range of the bed.
"As I understanding from my observations you somehow survive on tea and tea alone," he said, pausing only long enough to check his pet's pulse before heading for the door. Holmes did not move though his heart was beating, if a bit erratic. "I brought you soup as well. You may wish to eat before your system shuts down."
With that he closed the door, locking it behind him.
***
Four hours later he returned, mostly to ensure that his guest hadn't found a way to escape this game by drowning himself in tea and broth. He certainly hadn't expected to find Sherlock sitting up, the plastic mug empty and Holmes' eyes much the same. Still, despite the dark circles, the hollow look and the way he was scratching the crook of his arm raw, blood staining his nail beds, he still tried desperately to maintain his former demeanor.
"What I can't seem to determine, and I will blame the drug you've administered for that slight, is why you must use sex to humiliate me. There are many more ways, one that would certainly be more mentally painful to an asexual being such as myself, so I'm coming to assume that the sex has little to do with your humiliation of me as much as it does some perverse taste you have." His voice wasn't as smooth as it once had been, more hesitations as pale eyes went unfocused, torn between pain and a sudden hunger that had his gaze darting over Moriarty's jacket as if he could see what might lay within the pockets. "Is it just men? Forcing another to service you? Strung out and drug addled? You are working hard to make heroin my poison, so what is yours?" Elbows on his knees, Sherlock steepled his fingers and peered up at his captor as if to study him but he couldn't hide the look of hunger in his eyes.
Smiling, Jim pulled up his chair just out of reach from Holmes, settling into the seat and carefully crossing his legs. Smoothing out the crease in his trousers, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a fresh, filled syringe. Holding it aloft a moment, assuring Holmes he had it, Jim slid it back into his pocket.
"You." He smiled, folding his arms over his chest. "Isn't that what every great ego wants to hear? Of all the men and women in the world, all the eager and willing little partners I might have who would do each and everything I wanted willingly and with such eagerness, you're the one I can't seem to get off my mind. Even tried finding pretty boys who bear your same dark hair and pale eyes but it was never the same." He said the words smoothly, almost as if they were practiced. In truth he couldn't think of a better humiliation for someone as utterly uninterested in sex than Holmes, though to reveal that belief would mean telling his guest just how far he planned to take this and to do that would ruin everything.
"I suspected you might well take death before performing as the good puppy I'm certain you can be, so I did feel the need to ensure that you would do just what I want. I can see already that you're eager for the next hit, Sherlock. How hard has it been? May I ask a question?" He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he continued on as if he hadn't asked a pair of questions rather than a single one. "Are you truly upset that I've given you this addiction back, or have you found it to be a relief that you can indulge in this hunger without being blamed for your actions?"
"You assume I need you to clear the path for me, Moriarty. If a life of debauchery was my choice, I would have it. If I wished to still be an addict, I would be. You believe your place in my life is so great that I need you to approve such activities for me?" As Sherlock so often did, he turned one emotion and pain into another.
He tsked, shaking his head. "No, I do not believe it is my place in your life that stops you from such things. I believe that would be the doing of your darling Doctor Watson."
Another time, a place where he wasn't aching down to the marrow of his bones for something that was so close and yet the chasm of his morals away, Holmes might have been able to hide his shock at those words. That he couldn't hide it only made Jim glee, eyes brightening as he clapped his hands lightly.
"I knew it. I knew he was the one. Rather sweet, you know. The way he dotes on you, acting as your servant and exclaiming over the little things you do. I really thought, after all this time watching over you, that you would die a young man, bitter and alone. Along comes the doctor and you just gave away so much and yet you denied him so many things."
From another it might have sounded like a good friend trying to help John and Sherlock past their shyness. From himself Jim was certain it sounded like a threat. It made him smile wider.
Holmes seemed to have gotten the answers he wanted, refusing to comment. Pale, hollow eyes stared at Moriarty, betraying not so much as a hint of life. Time to change that. Reaching out, hesitant enough to be concerned of Holmes and his temporary bonds, he petted the other man as one might a dog. Except it wasn't his head with the unruly curls he strokes, staring into those slanted Siamese eyes. "You wish to go home to him. He must be frantic with worry over you. You desire another hit. All of that can be accomplished so easily."
Still his fingers played over the fly of Holmes' crotch, noting with amusement the lack of physical reaction from him. It wasn't anything he needed. That was what made his enjoyable.
"Is that your game then? Ensure I'm back to being a needful addict and then return me to John to witness the pain of him helping me through withdrawals? Do you believe he wouldn't stand by me?"
His touch stilled though stayed against the still damp fabric of his trousers. Jim laughed, a delighted sound as one might give a child that had said something truly adorable. "Oh, my sweet, darling pet. If only it was going to be that simple." Chuckling still, he rose, turning his back on Holmes and heading for the door. Despite his manner, he waited, expecting a voice that he wasn't entirely certain he would hear.
And then he did.
"I had thought..."
Moriarity paused between one step and the next but he didn't turn around. "You had thought what, pet?"
He heard the sharp intake of breath, the preparation for arguing that he was no one's pet. It was a protest that never came.
"I agree to your terms."
Only then did Moriarty turn back to face Sherlock, a lazy smile curving his lips. "Do you now. You agree to my terms." Stepping closer, he reseated himself though this time his legs remained uncrossed. "What terms would that be, pet?"
He watched Holmes closely, almost able to see the war going on in the consulting detective's head. Reaching into his pocket, Jim pulled out a small knife rather than the syringe that he was certain Holmes was desiring.
Leaning over Holmes, he sliced through the plastic of the tie with a quick jerk of his wrist. Something pressed against his fly. For a moment it was nothing more than that slight pressure and then heat, moisture and with a start Jim realized Holmes was taking the initiative, mouthing at the already hardening length of his cock through the silk of his trousers. A fine tremble went up the length of his spine and Moriarty fought hard for his own control.
"That doesn't actually answer my question," he noted, moving to sit back in his chair. Staring at Holmes, he stroked the damp spot and a soft groan. "But a good start. Explain the terms, pet, and we'll begin."
Despite his unwillingness to let Jim leave, and then the willingness to act for his hit, pale eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "I orally satisfy you and you provide me with another dose, thereby setting me up to repeat this cycle until either you become bored or I'm thankful enough to receive an overdose."
"So long as you understand." Sitting back, he undid his belt and button, slowly drawing down the zipper. "On your knees then. Before I would have left you on the bed but you did ruin that moment so..."
The war was waged without sound, glaring at one another until Holmes slid forward, dropping to his knees with a snap of his teeth.
"That's a good boy. I'm very proud of you," he murmured, hooking his thumb into the elastic waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. His cock wasn't overly long though thick, uncut and hard. Watching those full lips that he often thought of, he stroked himself once, drawing back the foreskin so that the head glistened with precome. "Even a hint of teeth and we'll start this all over again and you'll be going through withdrawals over the next month, back and forth."
Holmes nodded, once, hands sliding up over Jim's thighs. He sighed, shaking his head and slapped the back of Sherlock's hand sharply.
"No hands, pet. Show me your mouth is good for anything other than sarcasm and snark."
Hatred burned brightly in those pale eyes, staring up at Jim past dusky lashes as he clasped his hands behind his back. A lover might have nuzzled, showed affection through tiny flickers of their tongue and made a game of it. Holmes was offering none of that.
Arching up on his knees, he wrapped his lips around the wide head without preamble. He dipped his head, lips skittering over the dry flesh of Jim's cock as he tried to take as much as he could in a single motion. His mouth was dry as his lips, hot though and when the head of his cock hit the back of Sherlock's throat, he couldn't holding himself back. Holmes had been waiting days for his hit, but Jim had been fantasizing about this for weeks. Yet he made himself wait, watching the other man until he pulled away, sliding back down the length of Jim's cock slowly. He sighed.
"I admit, I wasn't expecting you to be good at this, all things considered, but it isn't as if being decent at it is so hard. Let me help." Tangling his fingers into the dark, matted curls, he pulled Holmes off him, holding him still as he bucked up his hips. "Mmm, that's it, pet. Much better."
Grunting, he kept moving, slamming into his pet's mouth time and again. It was exquisite, though not for the sensations as much as the sight before him. Full lips and pale eyes, loathing in his eyes though not once did Sherlock look away. Not even seeming to blink as he was held, used as a fuckdoll rather than participating in his own sexual awakening. Rocking steadily, fucking those beautiful lips with roughening strokes. Jim found his breath coming in quick, hard pants.
"That's it. Oh so good, pet. So close." Already he knew what it was he wanted, what he was going to take from him. "Come now, pet. Take it all."
The words were the only warning there was before he jerked Holmes down onto him, slamming up hard with a snap of his hips. It was cruel, a risk to his own safety but he wanted nothing more than to feel that tight heat of the self proclaimed sociopath's throat around his cock before he lost the last shreds of his control.
Pulling back, nearly jerking his cock free, Jim pushed back in as deep as he could, going still. "Come now, pet. Swallow and bring me off." Not that he was going to rely on Sherlock to do as he was told as he leaned over him, pushing himself deeper so that Jim could stroke Sherlock's throat.
Dark eyes locked with pale ones, the battle raging once more until the need to breathe won out over steely determination. He swallowed, muscles undulating over the head of Jim's cock. Intense, blinding pleasure shot through Moriarty, head thrown back as he pulled free of that tight heat. "Almost,' he whispered, giving his cock a quick stroke, another, moaning as his own fingers brushed over the head. Balls tightening up against his body, he didn't resist his own pleasure. His cock jerked, using his tight hold on Holmes' curl keeping him close as he came on his cheek, the second twitch of his cock sending his release over those sensual lips.
Shuddering, he leaned back into the chair, pushing his pet back with a grunt. "You'll learn,' he said, cock softening against his boxers as he tucked himself away, doing up his slacks and rebuckling his belt.
Holmes pulled the sheet from the bed preparing to clean himself off. Jim chuckled, breathless still. "Leave it or I'll take your treat with me,' he murmured, hand nearly in his inner pocket. He waited, watching Holmes. The sheet dropped to the floor. "Good boy."
Rising, he held out the syringe to his guest. "I'll watch," he said, standing over him. "I can't trust you with the needle, after all."
Sherlock to the needle, staring up at Jim. He shook his head, holding it up. "My hand..."
"Are you shaking too hard,' he asked with a pout, lower lip sticking out. "Did you wait too long. Awww, pet." Yet he took the needle back, shaking his head. "Maybe next time you'll behave and won't have to wait so long."
He took the needle, gesturing to the seat of the chair. Holmes looked down. In the light of the bare bulb overhead, the come on his face glistened as it dried. Jim itched to pull out his phone and have a picture. Not yet though. Not until he had his guest posing for them.
Sherlock brought his arm to rest on the seat, tensing slightly. Jim was nearly professional as he pushed the needle into his pet's arm. Unlike before he didn't play, didn't hesitate to enjoy the feel of resistance as flesh gave way to the needle. Every inch of his attention was focused on Sherlock's face. Injection, pushing down the plunger with deft fingers.
He jerked, pupils flaring before he could even truly be feeling the effects of the drug. It couldn't have hit him yet but the desire was there, the need for the bliss and oblivion that the drug would bring. A shame the dose was low, cut and mixed to bring a moment of euphoria and little more. There would be no waiting nearly a day before he continued chipping away at Holmes and his ego. Jim suspected it wouldn't take long before Sherlock began to give him what he wanted, eager to offer himself in exchange with the next hit.
He'd already begun to crack, but it wouldn't be long before he broke completely.