As the moment of their meeting time drew ever closer, he couldn't pull his gaze from the clock. His thoughts were invariably pulled to what they would get up to if Jim indulged him, the mere thought of being at his mercy again making his heartbeat jump in tempo and his respiratory rate turn to something shallow and shaky. This was so much worse than any of his other addictions, having always had his stash of chemical help that he was certain would be there. This, though, he had to rely on someone else, and someone who liked toying with him to boot, so there was no surety. It was the most exquisite torture to wait for him to arrive, already feeling anxious and more than ready to get his fix.
He stopped breathing for a moment when he heard the lock click, his throat going dry when the object of his addiction entered, looking entirely too pleased at this turn of events. His question has him clearing his throat uneasily, disconcerted at just how much and how often he'd thought about him in the last few days. There was no pretending he didn't want this anymore, and that thought alone was a paralytic, his expansive vocabulary leaving him when reminded that Jim knew just how much he wanted this.
"Drink?" he asked, standing and moving to the dresser where he'd set out a bottle of scotch and two glasses, knowing that if there was ever a time to drink, it was when you'd invited your mortal nemesis for a salacious meeting in a posh hotel. He poured himself a generous amount, quickly draining it to take some of the edge off.
Well, that non-answer was not so much surprising as it was interesting. "Of course." He poured himself a Scotch and sipped delicately at it, carefully assessing Sherlock's current state. It was heady business to see the other man so unnerved. Finding the nearest chair, he sat down with care, preferring not to sit on the bed right away as that probably would send poor Sherlock scurrying away. Still, the other man had taken the initiative of pursuing him. It was time to return the favor.
He loosened his tie slowly before taking another sip. "You know ...I think we should skip the formalities. I mean where does one go from full on frottage?" Merely rhetorical, he urged Sherlock closer.
Sherlock followed Jim's movements with his eyes over the lip of his glass as he quickly drained it. He continues to simply watch as Jim finds a seat, setting his empty glass down and pausing momentarily as Jim speaks of skipping the preliminaries.
He nods his assent, slowly moving to close the distance between them until he's standing over him, barely a foot away. Just the scent of his cologne is enough to increase his excitement, emboldened a bit by the thrill of it enough to reach forward and finish removing Jim's tie for him. He tosses it aside before moving his hands to unbutton his own suit jacket and throw it to one side as well.
"Haven't the faintest." he admitted, though the edge to his voice was more enticed by that fact than anything. In this situation, he had no idea what to expect, and that alone was completely engaging for him.
"Oh, but you know a little. Not even your mind can overcome innate human curiosity on the mechanics of sex. Then again, you didn't know or care the earth revolved around the sun. So, I suppose I should grant you some leeway on the subject ..." Moriarty teases, looking pleased as he looked up at Sherlock sans dress jacket. Eyes that were soulless but not without life kept looking up as he reached out and took hold of the waistline of the other man's slacks and tugging him closer.
"Tell me, you're good at reading people." He pauses to work on lowering the zipper in front of him. "So go on, tell me what do you think that I am about to do next after pulling you out?" Go on, say it, Sherlock, he mused.
Sherlock only had the most rudimentary grasp of how sex worked, having deleted most of his knowledge on the subject considering it seemed so unnecessary. He had never expected that anyone would pique his interest in that area, let alone that it would be someone who's threatened his life in the past. He gave a derisive snort and shook his head when he mentioned the solar system.
"Seems rather impertinent considering you're about to show me exactly how it works." he replied, stepping forward as urged by Jim's fingers at his trousers. His breathing becomes shallow as Jim opens his trousers, bracing his hands on his shoulders at a sudden rush of excitation at what was to come.
"Use your mouth." he says in barely a whisper, half in answer to his question and half a request, wanting to feel what it was like and get that thrill of blissful tranquility that came along with every time Jim touched him. He wanted it so badly it was almost painful that he wasn't being touched already, his fingers squeezing imploringly at his shoulders in an effort to expedite this.
"Yes, hmmm, that's me. Impertinent. I'll see what I can do ..." " Moriarty huffed in quiet amusement, still under the impression that he was in control of the situation. Taking care not to get anything caught in said zipper, he undid the snap-hook button in the slacks first and then in a moment of whimsy, yanked underwear and slacks down past thighs. Slightly uncomfortable by his own erection that he was choosing to ignore, he fixated on the prize before him. Twofold in its pleasure, seeing Sherlock in such an excited state and exposed, he leaned forward.
This was too good a thing to rush. If Sherlock though frottage was the thing, the rest was going to blow his mind. Instead of placating by just a little swallow at a timely rate, he took Sherlock's cock in just past the point of gag reflex and then looked up to watch Sherlock's reactions.
Jim's voice alone was enough to make him shudder slightly in anxious longing, though he stilled completely when his fingers were at the zip of his slacks. He sucked in a breath and held it without realizing it as Jim worked at freeing him from his trousers.
There's a barely audible gasp when Jim yanks his slacks and pants off in one swift motion, his already turgid arousal twitching at being so suddenly exposed. He held his breath yet again as though to keep from making any telling sounds, though it didn't do much good. Just as soon as Jim's mouth was on him, he couldn't help but moan his approval, a shiver wracking him as his mind switched off and his body took over. Jim will likely be pleased by the soft 'Ah!' that escapes him when he takes him completely, not having anticipated he would be capable of that. His fingers grip hard at his shirt, one of his hands curling around the back of his neck, fisting in his hair as though to keep him right there.
Oh, that was good! Moriarty kept his now merry looking eyes upward as he dragged his lips back up to the tip and then tonguing the little slit with lavish care. This couldn't possibly compete with their whole Reichenbach spectacle, but it was a great way to level the playing field between them. Eventually, anyway. For now, he cherished the heady mixture of his nemesis in such a vulnerable and excitable state.
With care, he unzipped his pants to relieve some of the pressure and then resumed his attentions. Down again, he bobbed his head up repeated, using a light suctioning to see if he could get another 'ah!' out of him.
Seeing that hungry gaze on Jim's face only stoked the fire steadily growing in his belly, steadying himself using Jim's shoulder as his body shuddered and his knees quaked under the attention. He gasps softly when his tongue teases the glans, stroking his fingers through his hair in something akin to affection.
He leaned over him even further, bracing himself upright with Jim and the chair rather than holding up his own weight because he didn't much trust his legs to hold out much longer. His focus is pulled from all of Jim's lovely attention for a moment when Jim unzips himself as well, excitement thrumming through his every nerve ending at the mere suggestion of seeing more of him again. Jim's returning to his previous task brought him right back to the present, biting hard on his lip to muffle any sounds he might make, though he couldn't help an intermittent whine here and there.
"Is this all you're going to show me?" he asks in a play at being in control of himself, though the breathless quality of his voice surely betrays him. This was absolutely brilliant, no question, but his addictive personality wanted anything and everything and it wanted it right now. He loved that he still was never quite sure how Jim would answer, curious as to whether he would oblige him or continue on like this until he's overstimulated to the point where he'd beg for more. The idea of either option made him shiver, waiting impatiently for what Jim decided.
Moriarty stopped and pulled his mouth off with an audible plop sound before standing up with what appeared to be amusement. It was anything but. To be sure, he felt the amusement within, but he too, was wracked with an overwhelming urge to skip the preliminaries and jump to the main course. The headiness of the situation was getting to him as well. Working hard on removing all his clothing without appearing to be out of control, he encouraged Sherlock to do the same for himself.
"I think that we both know that is the least of what I plan to do and the very least of what you came here for, you cheeky man." Speaking as he did, Moriarty made a misstep and fell backwards on the bed, naked now, save for his socks. How cliche, he mused. Like a bad porno. Or a good one depending on one's tastes. Laughing, he worked on sitting up to remove the last article of clothing on his person.
Sherlock made a soft 'nnf' sound of disappointment when he's suddenly robbed of all that glorious heat and pressure, gazing blearily down at the criminal who'd gotten him so impressively hard and wet as he was. He took the cue from Jim to start disrobing as well, slipping off his shoes and discarding his socks, pants and trousers in one fluid motion afterward.
His heartbeat jumps in tempo at the assurance that they'll be getting up to much more tonight, stepping toward the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it slip over his shoulders to flutter to the floor. He stepped cautiously over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it next to the other man. He couldn't help from reaching out to run his fingers over Jim's warm stomach as he laughed, tracing over his ribs in interest just for the sake of learning him.
When Jim sat up, he canted his head down to kiss his pulse point, breathing deep the scent of his cologne as he rubbed his cheek against his stubble. Everything about this man intoxicated him, and he couldn't help himself from shifting closer as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to his jaw.
Barely having got his socks off, he was being molested gloriously by an eager Sherlock. Moriarty's own heartbeat in comparison has been off the charts since he walked into the room. By now, with all the physical touches he was being treated to, Sherlock would be able to feel that. Their height difference would make it a little difficult for the other man as he kissed jawline, so he obliged and fell back onto the bed again, running his smaller hands along upper chest, waist and hips.
He rolled them suddenly, determined to see how how in control Sherlock wanted to be as he lay underneath the other man. Looking up as their cocks rubbed against each other in the process, he let out a pleased groan. The smell of Scotch on both their breathes only served to fuel his need to goad the other man into exploring all that was being offered to him. Adding incentive, he kissed hungrily after reaching up to meet Sherlock halfway.
Sherlock inched his fingers up Jim's neck, both to tilt his head to gain more area to kiss as well as to feel his elevated pulse under his fingertips. He just watches him for a moment when he lays back, shivering under his hands when Jim touches him.
He follows Jim's urging to climb on top of him, straddling him and gasping at the brushing of their erections against each other. The thrill of sensation up his spine succeeded in getting him all the more excited, leaning down to eagerly meet Jim's kiss and cover his body with his own. He rocked his body against him, moaning into the kiss at the incredible pleasure of it all.
He stopped breathing for a moment when he heard the lock click, his throat going dry when the object of his addiction entered, looking entirely too pleased at this turn of events. His question has him clearing his throat uneasily, disconcerted at just how much and how often he'd thought about him in the last few days. There was no pretending he didn't want this anymore, and that thought alone was a paralytic, his expansive vocabulary leaving him when reminded that Jim knew just how much he wanted this.
"Drink?" he asked, standing and moving to the dresser where he'd set out a bottle of scotch and two glasses, knowing that if there was ever a time to drink, it was when you'd invited your mortal nemesis for a salacious meeting in a posh hotel. He poured himself a generous amount, quickly draining it to take some of the edge off.
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He loosened his tie slowly before taking another sip. "You know ...I think we should skip the formalities. I mean where does one go from full on frottage?" Merely rhetorical, he urged Sherlock closer.
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He nods his assent, slowly moving to close the distance between them until he's standing over him, barely a foot away. Just the scent of his cologne is enough to increase his excitement, emboldened a bit by the thrill of it enough to reach forward and finish removing Jim's tie for him. He tosses it aside before moving his hands to unbutton his own suit jacket and throw it to one side as well.
"Haven't the faintest." he admitted, though the edge to his voice was more enticed by that fact than anything. In this situation, he had no idea what to expect, and that alone was completely engaging for him.
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"Tell me, you're good at reading people." He pauses to work on lowering the zipper in front of him. "So go on, tell me what do you think that I am about to do next after pulling you out?" Go on, say it, Sherlock, he mused.
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"Seems rather impertinent considering you're about to show me exactly how it works." he replied, stepping forward as urged by Jim's fingers at his trousers. His breathing becomes shallow as Jim opens his trousers, bracing his hands on his shoulders at a sudden rush of excitation at what was to come.
"Use your mouth." he says in barely a whisper, half in answer to his question and half a request, wanting to feel what it was like and get that thrill of blissful tranquility that came along with every time Jim touched him. He wanted it so badly it was almost painful that he wasn't being touched already, his fingers squeezing imploringly at his shoulders in an effort to expedite this.
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This was too good a thing to rush. If Sherlock though frottage was the thing, the rest was going to blow his mind. Instead of placating by just a little swallow at a timely rate, he took Sherlock's cock in just past the point of gag reflex and then looked up to watch Sherlock's reactions.
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There's a barely audible gasp when Jim yanks his slacks and pants off in one swift motion, his already turgid arousal twitching at being so suddenly exposed. He held his breath yet again as though to keep from making any telling sounds, though it didn't do much good. Just as soon as Jim's mouth was on him, he couldn't help but moan his approval, a shiver wracking him as his mind switched off and his body took over. Jim will likely be pleased by the soft 'Ah!' that escapes him when he takes him completely, not having anticipated he would be capable of that. His fingers grip hard at his shirt, one of his hands curling around the back of his neck, fisting in his hair as though to keep him right there.
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With care, he unzipped his pants to relieve some of the pressure and then resumed his attentions. Down again, he bobbed his head up repeated, using a light suctioning to see if he could get another 'ah!' out of him.
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He leaned over him even further, bracing himself upright with Jim and the chair rather than holding up his own weight because he didn't much trust his legs to hold out much longer. His focus is pulled from all of Jim's lovely attention for a moment when Jim unzips himself as well, excitement thrumming through his every nerve ending at the mere suggestion of seeing more of him again. Jim's returning to his previous task brought him right back to the present, biting hard on his lip to muffle any sounds he might make, though he couldn't help an intermittent whine here and there.
"Is this all you're going to show me?" he asks in a play at being in control of himself, though the breathless quality of his voice surely betrays him. This was absolutely brilliant, no question, but his addictive personality wanted anything and everything and it wanted it right now. He loved that he still was never quite sure how Jim would answer, curious as to whether he would oblige him or continue on like this until he's overstimulated to the point where he'd beg for more. The idea of either option made him shiver, waiting impatiently for what Jim decided.
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"I think that we both know that is the least of what I plan to do and the very least of what you came here for, you cheeky man." Speaking as he did, Moriarty made a misstep and fell backwards on the bed, naked now, save for his socks. How cliche, he mused. Like a bad porno. Or a good one depending on one's tastes. Laughing, he worked on sitting up to remove the last article of clothing on his person.
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His heartbeat jumps in tempo at the assurance that they'll be getting up to much more tonight, stepping toward the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it slip over his shoulders to flutter to the floor. He stepped cautiously over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it next to the other man. He couldn't help from reaching out to run his fingers over Jim's warm stomach as he laughed, tracing over his ribs in interest just for the sake of learning him.
When Jim sat up, he canted his head down to kiss his pulse point, breathing deep the scent of his cologne as he rubbed his cheek against his stubble. Everything about this man intoxicated him, and he couldn't help himself from shifting closer as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to his jaw.
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Barely having got his socks off, he was being molested gloriously by an eager Sherlock. Moriarty's own heartbeat in comparison has been off the charts since he walked into the room. By now, with all the physical touches he was being treated to, Sherlock would be able to feel that. Their height difference would make it a little difficult for the other man as he kissed jawline, so he obliged and fell back onto the bed again, running his smaller hands along upper chest, waist and hips.
He rolled them suddenly, determined to see how how in control Sherlock wanted to be as he lay underneath the other man. Looking up as their cocks rubbed against each other in the process, he let out a pleased groan. The smell of Scotch on both their breathes only served to fuel his need to goad the other man into exploring all that was being offered to him. Adding incentive, he kissed hungrily after reaching up to meet Sherlock halfway.
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He follows Jim's urging to climb on top of him, straddling him and gasping at the brushing of their erections against each other. The thrill of sensation up his spine succeeded in getting him all the more excited, leaning down to eagerly meet Jim's kiss and cover his body with his own. He rocked his body against him, moaning into the kiss at the incredible pleasure of it all.
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