Author's Note: Okay, so obviously this has been on hiatus. My writing partner bailed on me, so I'm going to have to come up with an ending for this myself. It will have an ending, though, I promise! I won't leave you guys hanging. Here's some porn and domestic bliss to make up for the utter psychopathic-ness that was my last chapter.

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"Seb!" Jim called over his shoulder and into the other room. He nudged a pair of trousers aside and sighed. This was really starting to irritate him. There was no response, so he yelled louder, "Sebastian!"

"What?" asked a faint, disembodied voice.

"Have you seen my suit?" James Moriarty was currently standing in front of his open wardrobe, scanning a line of perfectly pressed suits hanging in a neat row. He was naked, as he often was when lazing about his flat, but he wouldn't be that way for long. He had an important meeting to attend in less than an hour, and he was going to have to don his battle kit for it. The suits were arranged according to colour, from black to light charcoal to navy blue, and there was even one on the far end that was stark white.

His favorite, however—a jet black number punctuated by red pin stripes and a satin-lined interior—was not amongst their number. It was perfect for where he was going: an exclusive sex club in central London that catered only to homosexual males. The owner was in trouble with the Russian mafia and needed Jim's help, which he had no intention of giving. He wanted to not only look professional but also sexy as hell in the process. A lot of potential clients were going to be there, and it was imperative that he made a lasting impression. Not that he needed an excuse to dress up.

This particular suit hugged every inch of his body like an eager lover and emphasised the darkness of his eyes, making him look like walking sin. It did him no good if he couldn't find it, however, and none of his other options made quite the same statement.

Sebastian poked his head into the room, his blond hair wet and disheveled. He must have just had a shower. "Which one are you looking for? You have dozens."

Jim grinned. Touché. "My new Versace one. I could have sworn I hung it up after it came back from the launderette. I still can't believe I couldn't go a day without getting blood on myself."

After another cursory scan of his wardrobe's contents—as if the suit would magically reappear if he willed it to do so—he turned to his right-hand man. Seb was shifting from foot to foot, studiously refusing to meet his gaze. Jim's face darkened. "What did you do?"

"I sort of . . . tried it on." He held up his hands defensively as Jim stalked angrily towards him. "It just looked so good on you, I thought I might see how it favoured me."

"Sebastian," Jim said, his voice quiet and frighteningly controlled, "flattery will get you nowhere right now. You know damn well you're two suit sizes bigger than me."

"I know," He stepped fully into the room, "which is why the jacket sort of . . . ripped." He certainly had a soldier's build, what with his broad shoulders and plentiful musculature. Seb made Jim look downright slender. He was currently clothed in a plain gray T-shirt and jeans that had clearly not come pre-ripped. It was the opposite of how Jim dressed, unless he was playing a role.

Jim smacked Seb hard across the face before he could so much as flinch. A red hand print bloomed across Sebastian's cheek, and the sniper rubbed it soothingly.

"What the fuck do you mean it ripped?" Jim's tone was low and dangerous. Sebastian was much bigger than him: taller and stockier and more than capable of beating him to a pulp. But he wouldn't. Jim had complete control over him, and they both knew it.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said slowly, obviously preparing for another blow from the way he kept half-twitching away. "I pulled it on too quickly, and it split before I could pull it off. The rip was clean, though. I've already sent it to your tailor for repair."

Jim grit his teeth in a close approximation to a wolf baring its fangs but managed to rein in his temper. Sebastian was obviously trying to make amends for his mistake. He had to give him credit for that.

"Fine," he said sourly when his mood had once again stabilised. It surprised even him sometimes how quickly he could go from casual to murderous, "but it had better look brand fucking new when I get it back. Because it is."

Sebastian moved forward again, obvious relief on his face. "It will, baby. I swear." He put his hands on Jim's bare hips and stroked the protruding bone with his thumbs. Jim allowed the touch, though he was still cross about his suit. Seb leant forward and pressed their foreheads together in a gesture Jim had learned to recognise as affectionate. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to rip your suit. I hate when you're angry with me."

Seb brought their mouths tentatively together, waiting for permission. Jim toyed briefly with the idea of biting him before deciding he was hornier than he was irritated. He parted his lips and deepened the kiss. Angry or not, his lover was a phenomenal kisser, and he would never turn down the chance to have a good snogging session.

Sebastian leapt at the opportunity to redeem himself, stroking Jim's tongue with his own languidly. He moved slowly at first, letting the kiss evolve on its own. Jim couldn't help but melt against him. Seb was thrusting in with certainty now, wet and hot and tasting like rain. He was imitating the motions they made when they had sex, and the comparison shot straight between Jim's legs. He could feel his skin heating up, even as Sebastian pressed him back into the wall.

Much as he was the dominant one in this relationship, he loved when Seb took control, pinned him down and forced him to take what he gave him. It was probably because he was the dominant one that he enjoyed it so thoroughly. It was nice not having to think for once. When Seb's hands slid to his wrists, grabbed them firmly, and forced them against the wall by his head, it was all he could do not to break the kiss just so he could moan. He loved the feel of Seb's strong, warm body against his, holding him in place with his presence as much as his hands.

Jim wrapped a leg around his waist, completely unconscious of the fact that he was naked. The movement opened him up, and Seb sank between his thighs with a groan. They were both half-hard already, and the friction quickly sent the rest of their blood rushing south. Seb ground against him leisurely, wringing moans from his lips between kisses that left him breathless.

"All right," Jim murmured against Seb's mouth. "I forgive you."

"Shame," Seb replied, his voice deepened with lust. "Angry sex is my favourite."

"Oh?" Jim moaned loudly when Seb dipped down to kiss his neck, a day's worth of stubble scratching his skin. Delicious.

"Yes," Seb hissed against him. His breath was hot and tickling. "You're so passionate when you're angry. Your eyes darken and smoulder, and the way you look at me makes my skin prickle. It's like there's electricity in the air, and suddenly I'm so hot for you it aches. Then you grab me and crush our lips together, and the whole world screeches to a stop."

Jim groaned obscenely loudly as Seb worked his way lower, kissing down his chest to a dusky nipple and latching on. "Keep talking. Oh, God, keep talking. I love your voice when you're turned on."

"I love when you use me," he said in reply, his lips wrapped around Jim's nipple and his tongue lavishing it. "I love when you force me down and take me like you're attacking me, like you'd just as soon punch me as kiss me. It's so harsh and frantic. You fuck me so hard when you're in a mood. The noises you make are more animal than human, and God I love how you make me scream your name when I come, won't let me come until I do."

Jim was growling now, actually growling, and digging his hands into Seb's shirt. He grabbed two ends of it and ripped it open, too aroused to care that he could have just pulled it over his head. Sebastian shuddered appreciatively at the gesture before locking their lips fiercely back together. Jim could hear him fumbling at his belt buckle, and the sound made him impossibly harder.

Their hips were grinding in a slow circle now, stoking a burning pleasure deep in his lower abdomen. Moments later, hot flesh came into contact with hot flesh, and they both moaned, throwing their heads back, drowning in it.

"Bed," Jim ordered, though he would be content to have Seb fuck him hard against the wall. His right-hand man nodded, his eyes half-lidded, and began to manoeuvre them over, guiding Jim over with two hands on his hips. The back of Jim's thighs hit the mattress a moment later, and he tumbled onto it. He yelped when he encountered cold metal. Rummaging through their tangled pile of white sheets, he extracted something large and black.

"Your rifle?" he asked Seb, holding the large gun up with a decidedly confused expression on his face.

Sebastian was beaming. "My modified Sterling SAR-87! I've been looking everywhere for that! I knew I left it around here somewhere."

"What the fuck is it doing in our bed? If this is some new kink of yours, I might just be amenable to that."

Sebastian shrugged, stroking the black metal with obvious reverence. "I dunno. I must have needed it for something."

Jim rolled his eyes. Sometimes he would swear the man loved guns more than he loved . . . pretty much anything. Jim pointed to where his cock was standing straight up from his body. "If you would kindly direct your attention to another hard, solid thing that is in need of your tender maintenance, I'd be much obliged."

Seb moved to the nightstand, set the rifle carefully down—switching on the safety as he went—and divested himself of his jeans and pants. As soon as he was naked, he crawled on top of Jim, looking unbearably aroused. His cock bobbed against his stomach, and Jim reached down to rake his fingers through the soft, blond curls that grew around it. Seb pressed his hips down, seeking more contact. Jim obliged him, grasping his cock at the leaking head and giving it a firm pump. Seb shivered and moved to straddle his hips. Their pricks came into full contact, and their moans rang harmoniously in the air.

Jim would never admit it aloud, but he loved Seb's cock. Of all the lovers he'd had in his lifetime, and he fancied he'd had quite a few, Seb had the best cock of all of them. It was so thick and heavy, with a lovely web of veins jutting beneath the skin. It fit perfectly in Jim's hand, felt like it belonged there, nestled in his palm. It tasted every bit as good as it looked, too, inexplicably sweet and the perfect shape to fit right up against his soft palate when he swallowed around it.

"What do you want?" Seb asked, leaning down to nip Jim's earlobe. "I'll do anything you want. You know I will, Jim. I'd do anything for you." His hips were rolling smoothly, dragging their wet erections against each other with aching slowness.

"Oh," Jim gasped, "oh, just like that is perfect. God, Seb, that feels good."

"No, you feel good." His voice was tickling Jim's ear in a way he found impossibly arousing. When he wanted to, Seb could talk like velvet, like hot fingers running down your skin. "I love the way your body looks splayed beneath me, all pale skin and eyes black like ink. You get so hot here," he trailed a finger down Jim's neck, "and here" to his armpit "and especially here." The hand slid down to his groin, and with a shudder Jim realised Seb was touching all the most vulnerable parts of him. God, that was hot.

"More," Jim moaned, needy. "Please, Christ, Seb, I need more." Seb's hips were moving faster now, rubbing their cocks together with alacrity, and Jim swore. "Fuck, yes, like that! Oh god, just like that. I'm so close."

Jim's veins were singing with pleasure, and he wrapped his legs tightly around Seb's waist, bringing them impossibly closer. The friction was almost unbearable, it was so sharp.

Seb kept his mouth—his warm, surprisingly soft mouth—at Jim's ear, spiking the fire building between them higher and higher as words poured out of him, "You're so beautiful, Jim. You're gorgeous when you're like this, sweaty and panting and shaking from how turned on you are. I love watching you unravel beneath me, watch that brilliant brain of yours short circuit as you give in to it. Is that what you're doing now, Jim? Giving in to me? Surrendering?"

Jim was three seconds away from fucking losing it, and he knew Sebastian could tell. Just as Jim's breath hitched in his throat and the pleasure threatened to overflow, Seb slowed his hips, just barely rocking against him.

Jim growled with frustration, gripping Seb's shoulders with white-knuckled fingers. "You fucking bastard. You fucking bastard, you're doing this on purpose."

Seb was nipping his way down his neck, adding to the excruciating torment. "Sorry, baby, but I love the moment when you come undone too much to rush it. I want to work it out of you, drink down every moan and watch every twist of your face."

Jim couldn't help the goose bumps that prickled along his skin at the words. And then Seb reached between them, grasped both their pricks in one large hand and began to stroke them languorously. He didn't even need lube, there was so much sweat and precum on their skin. Jim was writhing at this point, moaning obscenely and rolling against the sheets. Seb knew just how to work him, twisting his wrist in precisely the right way to light his whole body on fire. Even with the slow pace, it wasn't going to be long now.

"Sebastian," he groaned, "I swear to God, if you don't finish this soon, I'll do unspeakable things to you."

He heard Sebastian let out a small, needy noise even as he felt his hand quicken between them. He was tracing the shell of Jim's ear with his tongue, and fuck if that didn't feel amazing.

"You're aching for it, aren't you, Jim? You can't stand it when I tease you, because no matter how much you brush me off or mistreat me, you need me. You need my hand on you and my cock pressed to yours. I'm the only one who knows how to make you lose it completely. I'm the only one who gets to see you desperate. Now fucking come all over my hand like I know you want to."

Jim came with a bitten-off groan, spilling hot semen on their sweat-slicked skin. Seb coaxed him through it, his fingers moving slowly to avoid overstimulation, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of him. When he was spent, panting and utterly lost to the world, he heard Seb grunting above him. He was focusing on himself now, his hand making obscene wet sounds as he moved it quickly over his own cock. He came moments later, his own semen spurting out to join Jim's.

Sluggishly, Jim trailed his fingers through it, drawing designs on his own chest. His eyes were closed, but he could feel the other man watching him, admiring him. He knew Seb loved him, even if they'd never come anywhere near to broaching the subject. He'd tried to crush the unrequited sentiment at first, until he realised how loyal it made the other man to him. Seb wasn't kidding when he said he'd do anything for him. He was an incredibly useful tool. It didn't hurt that the sex was mind blowing either.

"That," Jim finally managed to drawl, "was fantastic."

Lips pressed against his, and he did a lazy job of returning the kiss.

"I agree," Seb murmured, "though you're going to be late for your meeting."

"Shit!" Jim's eyes flew open. He'd forgotten. He scrambled out of bed, shoving Seb off him and swearing profusely. "How the fuck could you let that happen? There's no way I can have a shower, get dressed, and go all the way across London in a half hour!" He sprinted to his wardrobe and began frantically pawing through his suits.

"I know." Seb was grinning cheekily. "That's why I called the club this morning and pushed your appointment back to two."

Jim turned slowly around, keeping his face carefully blank in the way he knew frightened his lover. Seb couldn't ever tell what he was thinking when Jim looked at him like this. Indeed, Sebastian's grin faded to an expression of wariness. His eyes darted to his assault rifle, and they both knew what he was thinking. Even if Jim attacked him, he wouldn't use it.

"You," Jim said slowly, prowling forward, "have got some nerve, rearranging my schedule without permission. You must have no regard for your own survival whatsoever, you smug, masochistic," he was standing right in front of him now, slipping between his bare thighs to loom over him, "utterly sexy bastard." He let his face split into a grin before planting a wet kiss on Sebastian's lips. "Thank you, darling. I appreciate the thought."

He could feel Sebastian's relief against his lips, and the other man wrapped his strong arms around his waist.

"So," the sniper said, grinning again, "since you have some extra time . . ."

Jim smirked, already feeling a familiar stirring in his groan. "Way ahead of you, sweetheart."

They tumbled back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. When Jim emerged from their flat an hour later, he was decked out in an impeccable gray Gucci suit and shiny black shoes.

He also had a notably satisfied flush to his skin.

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