Overflow Post II
This post is for responding to prompts from prompt posts that are full, or continuing WIPs that were started on prompt posts that have since filled up or are close to full.
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“Almost done,” he coos against the shell of John’s ear, “Now give us a kiss.”
John just wants it to be over with. So he doesn’t resist, he doesn’t give one last futile show of strength, he turns his head as far as he can toward Moriarty.
Moriarty leans forward, stubble brushing against his cheek, and then -
- and then John is brought back into himself as Sherlock rises up and snaps in front of his face. He can feel the air from the movement and hear Moriarty’s soft gasp as Sherlock and Moriarty’s breaths mingle, Sherlock straining forward and Moriarty pulling back.
“A bit late for shows of possessive aggression Sherlock,” Moriarty says as Sherlock collapses back against the bed, teeth still bared.
“You’re done. It’s over. Now stop,” Sherlock grits out.
John doesn’t protest the feeling of Moriarty pulling his limbs in, drawing their bodies even closer.
“It’s almost over. When it is I’ll toss you a knife and leave while you try to sort yourselves out. But Sherlock, if you’re going to be difficult, I’ll take that knife,” John thinks he can hear the twist of desire in Moriarty’s voice, “and I’ll penetrate your friend again.”
Sherlock snarls, opens his mouth, then clicks his teeth together as he shuts it.
“Smart boy,” Moriarty says, and leans forward again.
If Sherlock isn’t going to resist, then he isn’t going to resist. It’s so close to over, he just has to keep from resisting.
Moriarty’s lips meet his, and the angle is off, because he really can’t twist his head too far, but apparently it’s good enough because after several seconds Moriarty pulls back with what sounds like a contented little moan.
John looks back down to see Sherlock glaring up, over his shoulder and undoubtedly at Moriarty. He wonders if Sherlock watched the kiss. For whatever reason, he sort of hopes Sherlock had closed his eyes.
Moriarty chuckles again, says, “and one more for luck,” and pulls his body farther over John’s, pressing him down and leaning forward to press Sherlock’s unresponsive lips to his own.
John can feel the muscles along Sherlock’s body fully tensed. Sherlock doesn’t move until Moriarty pulls back and rolls off of them.
They squirm their way into a more comfortable position as Moriarty slides the condom off. John’s able to catch Moriarty slipping it in the glove as Moriarty picks it off the bed and turns it inside out before pocketing it.
The criminal looks remarkably unruffled as he tucks himself away.
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“Oh, Sherlock,” Moriarty laughs as he looks up at him, “Did you really think I was going to give you a knife, after that, while I was in the room? Don’t be an idiot,” he draws the word out.
John can feel Sherlock’s leg spasm before he responds, “You’re not going to leave us here.”
“No. I’d like to see if you could get away given enough time, but no.” John dreads whatever Moriarty’s grin indicates. “I’m going to call your policemen friends and let them find you like this.”
“Won’t that be funny?” Moriarty asks as Sherlock pulls at the ropes in some sort of tantrum. Sherlock’s movements pull on John, straining him and spreading him open until he lifts their bound wrists up and slams them back into the bed just to make Sherlock think about what he’s doing.
“Before I kill you,” Sherlock says as he stills, “I am going to make you regret this.”
Moriarty sighs into a smile, staring at them with dark eyes. “Oh, God, I hope so.”
He turns and walks back behind John, who can only hear him leave.
At the closing of the door John lets himself collapse.
His arse isn’t the only thing that’s on fire, and his pride isn’t the only thing that’s been irrevocably damaged.
He can hear Sherlock’s frantic repetition of his name, but beyond a muffled “It’s fine,” he can’t be bothered to reply.
Sherlock was right about one thing, at least. John’s no longer being poked by engorged flesh, so that’s nice. He can’t be bothered to move off the limp flesh, but he has no shame anymore, and if Sherlock does then that’s just too bad.
There is actually, despite everything, or possibly because of it, a calming effect from Sherlock’s worry.
John lets Sherlock’s concern wash over him. He doesn’t pay attention to the words - probably more pleas for forgiveness that he really can’t care about right now - but the tone soothes him. The familiarity of the voice soothes him.
They smell like panic, and sex, and faintly, terribly, like Moriarty, but he buries his nose against Sherlock’s neck and even if he perhaps shouldn’t be able to stand the man right now, the smell of him calms him.
He’s not fine. It’s not fine. But he got through it. He’s going to get through what’s to come. They’re going to get through it. Because there is going to be a they. Because he can’t deal with any other option. He can’t let Moriarty take that from him too. He can’t let Sherlock take it from him, or take it from himself.
They are going to deal with this, together, because that is what people in their position do. They are going to live with it, and they are going to continue as they were, even if only on the surface. They are going to be fine; John will not accept any other outcome. And they are, John would be willing to swear on anything, going to get Moriarty.
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I really liked the line "because there is going to be a they"
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