SACRIFICE Chapter 2

Warning: Adult Situations

A few hours later Moriarty returned. "He is safely home." He watched Sherlock for a few moments. The detective just sat there, staring forward. "You disappoint me sir. Is this all that you have left? The cold shoulder?" He hunched down, looking into his eyes.

"Look at me." Holmes still sat unblinking. "I said look at me." No answer, no movement, nothing. He slapped him hard across the face. His head jerked back but even as the red hand print began forming he still stared forward. Moriarty snarled. "One thing I will not tolerate is to be ignored! You will acknowledge me." He roughly grabbed a handful of hair and slammed the back of his head against the wall. He still ignored the professor. Even as small trickles of blood dropped onto the back of his collar. Suddenly he smiled down at his prisoner.

"You miss him, don't you? Miss your whore?" Holmes quickly spat at him. Moriarty laughed, wiping the spittle off his face. "I thought that would bring you around."

He suddenly lent over trailing his fingers against the cheek he slapped. He slowly traced the now fading red hand print.

"I notice a short while back that are rather quite…handsome." Holmes stared at him hard. "Soft and subtle lips…no wonder that whore fell for you." He spat at him again.

"Shut up." Sherlock hissed. Moriarty frowned, slapping him again.

"You will not speak to me like that. If you do you will be severely punished." He pulled a chain from his waist coat pocket. He quickly had the wrist chained above his head to a small metal ring attached to the wall. He quickly pushed him by the chest against the stonewall. Holmes sat with his back pressed harshly against the wall. Before Holmes could react, his captor lent forward, capturing the detective's lips in a kiss.

His eyes opened wide and he inhaled sharply through his nose. He tried to push the older man off but he was allowed very little movement. He gave a startled cry. But it was muted by the probing tongue. The tongue aggressively plundered his mouth. Moriarty broke the kiss and took a deep breath. He pressed himself tightly against the lithe body. Sherlock frantically turned his head but he tangled one hand in the black hair holding his head still. He recaptured the lips in a brutal kiss. He started rhymetically pressing his hips against the taunt stomach. He hissed loudly.

"God…this does feel good." Holmes opened his eyes which had been tightly closed. He wanted to vomit. The sight alone of Moriarty grinding his hips into him made Bile rise in his throat.

"Stop…God...please stop!" He kissed him hard again, effetely cutting off his protest. This was the worst. It felt as if he was nearly tasting down his throat. Suddenly he clamped down, biting the invading tongue.

Moriarty fell back with a cry. He spat blood on Holmes' face. "You dare not do that again!" He swiftly took out a small pocket knife from his coat pocket. He grabbed him by the chin. He brought the knife to each cheek bone, slicing. He winced as the blood welled from the slits.

"I was going to save this for later but I can hardly wait." Holmes watched him warily. Moriarty stood to his full height. He stood directly over him. Sherlock sat with his back against the wall, arms still stretched above his head. He was nearly pressing himself against his prisoner. His lap was directly inline with the detective's mouth.