FIC: That One May Smile 9/10
Title: That One May Smile 9/10
Author: Unsentimental Fool
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: (this part) NC-17
Word count: 2,400
Summary: Richard resorts to desperate measures to shore up his deception
Back to Ch 1
Mycroft looked out through the increasing rain at the grey-green park. "I will give you credit for Brook. You might so easily have allowed him a touch of your charisma, but that would have been more than a little awkward as a long term alibi. Your genius, for what it was worth, was to make him so dull and selfish that no-one ever genuinely befriended him, no-one cared what became of him at all." He turned to Richard, and his smile went nowhere near his eyes.
Richard stared at Mycroft for what he knew was far too long. The memory of what it felt like to be Moriarty was gone, lost far too deep to summon a response. All he felt was himself and hurt.
Mycroft stood up abruptly, the umbrella showering Richard with water as it tilted.
"Good heavens," he said, far too loud for Richard's comfort. "John was right. You don't know who you are any more." He stepped backwards. "This isn't a negotiation, it's a breakdown."
"Boss?" Seb was beside him. "Want me to take him out?"
He had a deal with Sherlock. Richard shook his head, wordless.
Mycroft's attention turned to Moran. "Your employer is losing his mind. I suggest that you get out while you still can."
"Fuck off, Holmes," Seb snarled ferociously. "I know where you live."
Mycroft's gaze flicked back to Richard. "Moriarty? Anything else to say?"
Richard barely resisted a shake of his head. He had to be Jim, had to be. "We'll talk again." The best that he had.
"No." Mycroft's voice was calm but his expression was almost sympathetic. "We won't meet again. You're losing control, Jim. This psychosis will become obvious and they won't obey you. You'll end up with your throat slit in a gutter somewhere; a pathetic end to a once great and evil man." He turned and walked back along the path, upright under his black umbrella.
There was silence for a moment as they watched him go.
"Home?" Seb suggested, diffidently.
A surge of the fury that he shared with Moriarty at the whole world; Richard turned on him, hand outstretched upwards to hit his cheek, and the dog barrelled into him, knocking him over and standing with forelegs on his chest, snarling in his face.
Seb dragged her off. "Sorry, Boss. She thought you were attacking me."
Richard pulled himself up from the mud. "I was and I will. Get rid of it." He stalked off, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Not in front of Seb. Not at all. He had to be Jim.
Richard didn't look up from the evening paper when Seb appeared a little later in the doorway of his living room.
"I think maybe we ought to talk, Boss."
Richard turned a page. "You stink of dog. Shower." He gestured towards his own bathroom.
Seb paused for a second, then moved to do as he was told. Richard closed his eyes in relief. He was at least going to get one chance. He picked up the long lengths of cord that he'd readied and made his way to the bedroom.
Seb knocked, no more than five minutes later, hair still damp and skin glistening wet.
"In." Richard glanced at him. "Lose the towel."
It dropped as Seb came in. "Everything OK, Boss?" From the rare hesitation in his voice it was clear that he knew the answer.
Richard steeled himself. Moriarty. He knew his source material. He could do this."The next sound you make had better be a scream." He glanced down the man's naked body, seemingly unimpressed. Still bloody gorgeous.
"There." He indicated a spot at the foot of the iron bedstead. Seb dropped to his knees, facing Richard, his face expressionless. He stretched out his hands, obedient, wrapped fingers around the metal and Richard bound each wrist loosely to the base. "It won't hold you, will it, Sebastian? Just a reminder not to let go." Seb nodded.
That was the easy bit. He left the man there, went back to find the spare key to Moran's rooms.
Seb was wise enough not to try to keep secrets from Jim. Richard had the password to his laptop and the keys to his drawers. He'd never before tried to use either. Now he went hunting for props; anything that might help.
There was a separate armoury in the house but Richard wasn't surprised to find Seb's favourite rifle in his wardrobe and a pistol in the desk. He left them alone; bluffing with firearms was not going to work with Moran. He pocketed a long jagged-edged hunting knife, though. No porn under the bed. He didn't check the laptop.
The last drawer he opened contained the sort of things that he had been looking for; handcuffs with key, electrical cable, a set of knuckledusters and a great deal of leather twine, along with various other unsavory items that Richard wasn't sure how to use. There was a lighter; he remembered Watson holding flame to his skin, the pain, his screams. He left it in the drawer; Moriarty might do that to Seb but Richard wouldn't, not even in this desperate pass.
After that he returned to his own living room, switched the TV on, flicked through channels for a while, ended up watching the news and playing solitaire on his laptop. An hour dragged by, then another. He took a shower himself, hand loosely sliding up and down the start of an erection, picturing the naked man next door. Then he slipped on a thick woollen dressing gown and slippers and went to see how Seb was doing.
Seb hadn't moved. His eyes were bright as he watched Richard walk to the place in front of him but he maintained an obedient silence.
Richard slapped him hard, across his left cheek. Seb barely twitched.
"Good." Richard slid the knuckledusters over his hand, clenched his fist. This time Seb's head crashed sideways against the bedframe. When he straightened it again to look up at his attacker the indentations from the metal were blazing red across his cheek. He rotated his jaw carefully, assessing. Richard had no idea whether he'd broken anything or not. He certainly wasn't going to ask.
Instead he brought his knee up hard, under the upturned chin. As Seb's head snapped back Richard hit him again. This time the eyes that met his were narrowed, blood oozing from high up on his cheekbone.
Richard looked down at Seb's knees. "Open up for me," he suggested.
Something flickered in Seb's eyes, but he widened his knees as he was told. Richard caressed his balls with the toe of his slipper, watching Seb's cock fill out, feeling his own responding enthusiastically under the dressing gown. Then the short length of electrical cable, sharp wires protruding, slashed downwards across Seb's inner thigh with all the power that desperation could give it.
That got a sharp intake of breath. He did it again a few times, ripping the skin raw, staying intent on the bleeding flesh so that he didn't needed to look at Seb's face, until there was finally a barely audible cry of pain. That might have been enough for Richard's purposes, but Moriarty was loving the damage too much, was compelling. Six, seven more strokes before he regained control and stopped.
"So you think maybe we ought to talk." Derision in his voice. "Well?"
The cut under Seb's eye was bleeding more profusely now. He looked down for a second, away from his master.
"No."
"No what?"
"Got nothing to say."
"Are you sure, Sebastian? You're quite happy?" Richard ran the toe of his slipper down Seb's unwilted erection, ended with a hard jab to his balls. "Because it's vitally important that you're happy, isn't it? My world," he gestured around, "is all about you, after all. So," he jabbed again and Seb gasped, sharp, "are you happy, Sebastian? I'm on tenterhooks here, waiting to find out."
Seb looked up at him from under dark lashes. "You want me to be happy, I'm fucking ecstatic." He rolled his twisted shoulders. "You're the boss."
Richard didn't let any of the relief show. It was not enough, yet. He unsheathed the knife, cut through the cords at Seb's wrists. "Why don't you get on that bed and show me just how ecstatic you are? Give me some writhing and mewling, pet."
Seb wiped blood away from his face, looking thoroughly disgusted. He glanced at the bed, then back at Richard, jaw set.
"Do not make me repeat myself, Sebastian." Richard's voice was carefully mild.
Seb held his gaze for another second then broke. He rolled onto the covers, favouring his bleeding thigh, and lay on his back, his eyes never quite meeting Richard's as he stroked himself. He had started whimpering, deliberate, hips twisting and head thrown back.
After a minute or so of that he twisted heavily over onto hands and knees, arse up towards Richard and wriggling. Richard was fascinated and desperately turned on by the flexing of the muscular thighs, the glimpses of his heavy cock as he moved.
It was time to take advantage. He told his unsettled conscience that he had to; Moran would be expecting nothing else. He untied the dressing gown, walked around the bed and pulled himself to sit up against the headboard, legs splayed on either side of Seb's panting mouth.
The first touch of tongue was electric. Hands lifted his thighs a little as Seb licked and sucked, a thumb pressing gently against his arse. Richard spread his legs further, murmured in heady pleasure, Moriarty temporarily forgotten. Seb took him deeper into his throat, pushed a calloused thumb firmly inside him and the murmurs became gasps as Richard clung onto his short hair. He came embarrassingly quickly with an uncontrolled shudder of delight and was immediately dragged unceremoniously down the bed.
Without consultation or hesitation Seb pushed his way inside him, forceful and unlubricated, a strong wrist underneath Richard's rear end to keep him at a convenient angle. Hot as it felt, this wasn't in Jim's game plan. Richard opened his mouth to protest and Seb kissed him, hard and wet, and he forgot everything that he should be doing in the pleasure of kissing him back, wrapping his legs high over the man's torso and his arms around his neck as he took the thrusts until Seb finally shuddered to a stop and lifted his head.
"Thoughtful of you to bring the cuffs. Next time I'm going to spread you out over the bed and fuck you very slowly indeed."
Richard let out a whimper, and Seb pulled out, rolled over, head on one hand to contemplate the smaller man.
"So all of a sudden Jim Moriarty bottoms for me and likes it? You going to tell me what's going on here, boss?"
Shit. Richard tried for Jim's arrogance. "Why should I?"
"OK. Shall I try, then? Holmes was right. When halfway through your usual S&M session you start wriggling your arse all "fuck me senseless", that's not you. That's Brook. You're letting him in and it's not on purpose."
He reached out, pinched one of Richard's nipples. "Don't get me wrong." A flicker of a smile. "However you want it, you get it. You're still the boss. But there are two fucking Holmes' on the other side. I want to know exactly how much trouble we're in."
Richard thought about lying but he was tired of pretending to this man. It was going to be all right; Seb truly cared about him. The way Seb had kissed him made him sure. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoned his nerve. "It's been me all along. Richard. Moriarty's not been back since before Watson kidnapped me. I've been acting him for weeks."
"Fuck!" He opened his eyes to see Seb staring. "I thought you'd changed your style a bit, but...fuck! Has he gone for good?"
"Yes." He could feel Moriarty roiling underneath him. He wasn't going to let him out.
Seb lay back, clearly stunned. "You've been..." And colder, "You've been fucking me about for weeks?"
"What choice did I have, Seb? Who was going to let me alone to be Richard Brook? It was Moriarty or no-one, and I had to be convincing." His tone was pleading. "Come on. Between us we've done OK, haven't we? We can carry on like this. You don't need him back."
Seb's eyes narrowed. "You've got a deal with them. That's why we didn't go after Watson."
Richard nodded. "Sherlock didn't want Moriarty back. No-one does."
Seb moved, fast, throwing himself on top of Richard, pinning his arms and spitting into his face. "You treacherous little shit! You think I'm bought with a bit of arse? If there wasn't the chance that it would hurt the boss, I'd take out every bit of your betrayal on your worthless fucking skin. Get him back."
"I can't!" A desperate lie.
"We'll see about that." He wrenched Richard over viciously, and Richard felt the cold handcuffs close on the wrists yanked behind him.
"Seb! Please!"
"Shut up. " He was pulled head first onto the thick carpet. "You haven't got his memories; you can't bluff it any more. I'll know when he comes back. I the meantime you're going to learn some fucking respect." Moran pulled him over. "You've got two choices. You can stay here and believe me I don't need to do permanent damage to his body to make things really unpleasant for you, or you can give up and let him back."
"That will kill me," Richard said, hopelessly.
"So what? You're just a puppet with fucking pretensions. I can do worse than death, easy. You know that."
After the last few weeks he knew full well what Seb was capable of. He'd just never imagined it aimed at him. Richard had secretly dreamed that Seb would prefer him, when he knew; after all Moriarty was savage and insane. He'd miscalculated hugely.
Seb tied him up to the bedstead. "Scream all you like. In this place there's no-one to hear you. I'll be back in an hour or two and we'll get started." His smile was heartless, the red marks on his face vivid.
"What are you going to do?" Richard was terrified into meekness.
The grin was wider. "You'd have been wiser to keep your dick out of my mouth, Brook. I'm going to spread you across the bed and fuck you very slowly, just as I promised. And this time, puppet boy, you're not going to like it at all."
Chapter Ten
Author: Unsentimental Fool
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: (this part) NC-17
Word count: 2,400
Summary: Richard resorts to desperate measures to shore up his deception
Back to Ch 1
Mycroft looked out through the increasing rain at the grey-green park. "I will give you credit for Brook. You might so easily have allowed him a touch of your charisma, but that would have been more than a little awkward as a long term alibi. Your genius, for what it was worth, was to make him so dull and selfish that no-one ever genuinely befriended him, no-one cared what became of him at all." He turned to Richard, and his smile went nowhere near his eyes.
Richard stared at Mycroft for what he knew was far too long. The memory of what it felt like to be Moriarty was gone, lost far too deep to summon a response. All he felt was himself and hurt.
Mycroft stood up abruptly, the umbrella showering Richard with water as it tilted.
"Good heavens," he said, far too loud for Richard's comfort. "John was right. You don't know who you are any more." He stepped backwards. "This isn't a negotiation, it's a breakdown."
"Boss?" Seb was beside him. "Want me to take him out?"
He had a deal with Sherlock. Richard shook his head, wordless.
Mycroft's attention turned to Moran. "Your employer is losing his mind. I suggest that you get out while you still can."
"Fuck off, Holmes," Seb snarled ferociously. "I know where you live."
Mycroft's gaze flicked back to Richard. "Moriarty? Anything else to say?"
Richard barely resisted a shake of his head. He had to be Jim, had to be. "We'll talk again." The best that he had.
"No." Mycroft's voice was calm but his expression was almost sympathetic. "We won't meet again. You're losing control, Jim. This psychosis will become obvious and they won't obey you. You'll end up with your throat slit in a gutter somewhere; a pathetic end to a once great and evil man." He turned and walked back along the path, upright under his black umbrella.
There was silence for a moment as they watched him go.
"Home?" Seb suggested, diffidently.
A surge of the fury that he shared with Moriarty at the whole world; Richard turned on him, hand outstretched upwards to hit his cheek, and the dog barrelled into him, knocking him over and standing with forelegs on his chest, snarling in his face.
Seb dragged her off. "Sorry, Boss. She thought you were attacking me."
Richard pulled himself up from the mud. "I was and I will. Get rid of it." He stalked off, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Not in front of Seb. Not at all. He had to be Jim.
Richard didn't look up from the evening paper when Seb appeared a little later in the doorway of his living room.
"I think maybe we ought to talk, Boss."
Richard turned a page. "You stink of dog. Shower." He gestured towards his own bathroom.
Seb paused for a second, then moved to do as he was told. Richard closed his eyes in relief. He was at least going to get one chance. He picked up the long lengths of cord that he'd readied and made his way to the bedroom.
Seb knocked, no more than five minutes later, hair still damp and skin glistening wet.
"In." Richard glanced at him. "Lose the towel."
It dropped as Seb came in. "Everything OK, Boss?" From the rare hesitation in his voice it was clear that he knew the answer.
Richard steeled himself. Moriarty. He knew his source material. He could do this."The next sound you make had better be a scream." He glanced down the man's naked body, seemingly unimpressed. Still bloody gorgeous.
"There." He indicated a spot at the foot of the iron bedstead. Seb dropped to his knees, facing Richard, his face expressionless. He stretched out his hands, obedient, wrapped fingers around the metal and Richard bound each wrist loosely to the base. "It won't hold you, will it, Sebastian? Just a reminder not to let go." Seb nodded.
That was the easy bit. He left the man there, went back to find the spare key to Moran's rooms.
Seb was wise enough not to try to keep secrets from Jim. Richard had the password to his laptop and the keys to his drawers. He'd never before tried to use either. Now he went hunting for props; anything that might help.
There was a separate armoury in the house but Richard wasn't surprised to find Seb's favourite rifle in his wardrobe and a pistol in the desk. He left them alone; bluffing with firearms was not going to work with Moran. He pocketed a long jagged-edged hunting knife, though. No porn under the bed. He didn't check the laptop.
The last drawer he opened contained the sort of things that he had been looking for; handcuffs with key, electrical cable, a set of knuckledusters and a great deal of leather twine, along with various other unsavory items that Richard wasn't sure how to use. There was a lighter; he remembered Watson holding flame to his skin, the pain, his screams. He left it in the drawer; Moriarty might do that to Seb but Richard wouldn't, not even in this desperate pass.
After that he returned to his own living room, switched the TV on, flicked through channels for a while, ended up watching the news and playing solitaire on his laptop. An hour dragged by, then another. He took a shower himself, hand loosely sliding up and down the start of an erection, picturing the naked man next door. Then he slipped on a thick woollen dressing gown and slippers and went to see how Seb was doing.
Seb hadn't moved. His eyes were bright as he watched Richard walk to the place in front of him but he maintained an obedient silence.
Richard slapped him hard, across his left cheek. Seb barely twitched.
"Good." Richard slid the knuckledusters over his hand, clenched his fist. This time Seb's head crashed sideways against the bedframe. When he straightened it again to look up at his attacker the indentations from the metal were blazing red across his cheek. He rotated his jaw carefully, assessing. Richard had no idea whether he'd broken anything or not. He certainly wasn't going to ask.
Instead he brought his knee up hard, under the upturned chin. As Seb's head snapped back Richard hit him again. This time the eyes that met his were narrowed, blood oozing from high up on his cheekbone.
Richard looked down at Seb's knees. "Open up for me," he suggested.
Something flickered in Seb's eyes, but he widened his knees as he was told. Richard caressed his balls with the toe of his slipper, watching Seb's cock fill out, feeling his own responding enthusiastically under the dressing gown. Then the short length of electrical cable, sharp wires protruding, slashed downwards across Seb's inner thigh with all the power that desperation could give it.
That got a sharp intake of breath. He did it again a few times, ripping the skin raw, staying intent on the bleeding flesh so that he didn't needed to look at Seb's face, until there was finally a barely audible cry of pain. That might have been enough for Richard's purposes, but Moriarty was loving the damage too much, was compelling. Six, seven more strokes before he regained control and stopped.
"So you think maybe we ought to talk." Derision in his voice. "Well?"
The cut under Seb's eye was bleeding more profusely now. He looked down for a second, away from his master.
"No."
"No what?"
"Got nothing to say."
"Are you sure, Sebastian? You're quite happy?" Richard ran the toe of his slipper down Seb's unwilted erection, ended with a hard jab to his balls. "Because it's vitally important that you're happy, isn't it? My world," he gestured around, "is all about you, after all. So," he jabbed again and Seb gasped, sharp, "are you happy, Sebastian? I'm on tenterhooks here, waiting to find out."
Seb looked up at him from under dark lashes. "You want me to be happy, I'm fucking ecstatic." He rolled his twisted shoulders. "You're the boss."
Richard didn't let any of the relief show. It was not enough, yet. He unsheathed the knife, cut through the cords at Seb's wrists. "Why don't you get on that bed and show me just how ecstatic you are? Give me some writhing and mewling, pet."
Seb wiped blood away from his face, looking thoroughly disgusted. He glanced at the bed, then back at Richard, jaw set.
"Do not make me repeat myself, Sebastian." Richard's voice was carefully mild.
Seb held his gaze for another second then broke. He rolled onto the covers, favouring his bleeding thigh, and lay on his back, his eyes never quite meeting Richard's as he stroked himself. He had started whimpering, deliberate, hips twisting and head thrown back.
After a minute or so of that he twisted heavily over onto hands and knees, arse up towards Richard and wriggling. Richard was fascinated and desperately turned on by the flexing of the muscular thighs, the glimpses of his heavy cock as he moved.
It was time to take advantage. He told his unsettled conscience that he had to; Moran would be expecting nothing else. He untied the dressing gown, walked around the bed and pulled himself to sit up against the headboard, legs splayed on either side of Seb's panting mouth.
The first touch of tongue was electric. Hands lifted his thighs a little as Seb licked and sucked, a thumb pressing gently against his arse. Richard spread his legs further, murmured in heady pleasure, Moriarty temporarily forgotten. Seb took him deeper into his throat, pushed a calloused thumb firmly inside him and the murmurs became gasps as Richard clung onto his short hair. He came embarrassingly quickly with an uncontrolled shudder of delight and was immediately dragged unceremoniously down the bed.
Without consultation or hesitation Seb pushed his way inside him, forceful and unlubricated, a strong wrist underneath Richard's rear end to keep him at a convenient angle. Hot as it felt, this wasn't in Jim's game plan. Richard opened his mouth to protest and Seb kissed him, hard and wet, and he forgot everything that he should be doing in the pleasure of kissing him back, wrapping his legs high over the man's torso and his arms around his neck as he took the thrusts until Seb finally shuddered to a stop and lifted his head.
"Thoughtful of you to bring the cuffs. Next time I'm going to spread you out over the bed and fuck you very slowly indeed."
Richard let out a whimper, and Seb pulled out, rolled over, head on one hand to contemplate the smaller man.
"So all of a sudden Jim Moriarty bottoms for me and likes it? You going to tell me what's going on here, boss?"
Shit. Richard tried for Jim's arrogance. "Why should I?"
"OK. Shall I try, then? Holmes was right. When halfway through your usual S&M session you start wriggling your arse all "fuck me senseless", that's not you. That's Brook. You're letting him in and it's not on purpose."
He reached out, pinched one of Richard's nipples. "Don't get me wrong." A flicker of a smile. "However you want it, you get it. You're still the boss. But there are two fucking Holmes' on the other side. I want to know exactly how much trouble we're in."
Richard thought about lying but he was tired of pretending to this man. It was going to be all right; Seb truly cared about him. The way Seb had kissed him made him sure. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoned his nerve. "It's been me all along. Richard. Moriarty's not been back since before Watson kidnapped me. I've been acting him for weeks."
"Fuck!" He opened his eyes to see Seb staring. "I thought you'd changed your style a bit, but...fuck! Has he gone for good?"
"Yes." He could feel Moriarty roiling underneath him. He wasn't going to let him out.
Seb lay back, clearly stunned. "You've been..." And colder, "You've been fucking me about for weeks?"
"What choice did I have, Seb? Who was going to let me alone to be Richard Brook? It was Moriarty or no-one, and I had to be convincing." His tone was pleading. "Come on. Between us we've done OK, haven't we? We can carry on like this. You don't need him back."
Seb's eyes narrowed. "You've got a deal with them. That's why we didn't go after Watson."
Richard nodded. "Sherlock didn't want Moriarty back. No-one does."
Seb moved, fast, throwing himself on top of Richard, pinning his arms and spitting into his face. "You treacherous little shit! You think I'm bought with a bit of arse? If there wasn't the chance that it would hurt the boss, I'd take out every bit of your betrayal on your worthless fucking skin. Get him back."
"I can't!" A desperate lie.
"We'll see about that." He wrenched Richard over viciously, and Richard felt the cold handcuffs close on the wrists yanked behind him.
"Seb! Please!"
"Shut up. " He was pulled head first onto the thick carpet. "You haven't got his memories; you can't bluff it any more. I'll know when he comes back. I the meantime you're going to learn some fucking respect." Moran pulled him over. "You've got two choices. You can stay here and believe me I don't need to do permanent damage to his body to make things really unpleasant for you, or you can give up and let him back."
"That will kill me," Richard said, hopelessly.
"So what? You're just a puppet with fucking pretensions. I can do worse than death, easy. You know that."
After the last few weeks he knew full well what Seb was capable of. He'd just never imagined it aimed at him. Richard had secretly dreamed that Seb would prefer him, when he knew; after all Moriarty was savage and insane. He'd miscalculated hugely.
Seb tied him up to the bedstead. "Scream all you like. In this place there's no-one to hear you. I'll be back in an hour or two and we'll get started." His smile was heartless, the red marks on his face vivid.
"What are you going to do?" Richard was terrified into meekness.
The grin was wider. "You'd have been wiser to keep your dick out of my mouth, Brook. I'm going to spread you across the bed and fuck you very slowly, just as I promised. And this time, puppet boy, you're not going to like it at all."
Chapter Ten