AN - Oh Jim you so tsundere ;/n/;

Jim wakes up first, of course. He doesn't sleep all that long, perhaps two or three hours, then wakes slowly, taking a while to surface from unconsciousness and work out where he is, and why.

Slow dull pain creeps into various parts of his body, along with the sharp sting of torn skin.

Oh. Yes.

He breathes in deeply, taking in the soft familiar scent of Sebastian, and yawns, breath warm against the man's neck. Then he carefully disentangles their limbs and stands, moving every so slowly in his slightly dazed state. He stretches his arms above his head, tilts his head from side to side. For a moment he pauses, watching Sebastian sleep still. He doesn't want to think about what they did, not just yet, because he isn't entirely sure how he feels about it. It was good, very good, and he definitely doesn't regret it.. but he'll wait, for Sebastian to wake up too. Sebastian seemed to want feelings to be involved... and he isn't so keen on feelings. They tend to make people vulnerable. He hates being vulnerable.

Away he wanders, not bothering to collect his discarded clothes. He still has his shirt on, he realises, but everything else has been removed at one point or another. The first stop is a shower, cleaning away the sticky mess of sweat and blood and sex coating his skin. He checks over his battle wounds; countless little bruises, especially across his hips, in the shape of Sebastian's fingertips. Scratches across his chest. And when he stands in front of the mirror to shave and comb his hair, he finds a beautiful collection of lovebites marring the pale skin on his neck, staining it purple and red like ink blots. He feels fabulously raw.

Finally he dresses, suit trousers and a white shirt; about as casual as it gets for him. And then he migrates to the kitchen, for coffee, and to wait for Sebastian to rouse himself.

It's not long before Sebastian finally stirs, groaning quietly and drawing a hand over his eyes. When had it gotten so cold...? Cracking open an eyelid, he takes in his unclothed state, and the distinct lack of Jim. He would complain, but then again, something tells him that the smaller man doesn't often stay, and so he drags himself upright, pushing his arms out far in front of him, popping that stubborn part of his back that never seemed to quit.

It's then he looks down at himself, noting just how many little tokens of his affection Jim has left on him. Hissing as he arches his neck, he can feel the burn of open flesh... Oh. Jim's little lovebite. Yes, that would take a while to heal, wouldn't it? Felt like it was going to be a painful bitch, too. He grunts, shoving a hand into his hair, forcing it back over his head, before turning around to where he imagines Jim might be. And yes, there he is, all prim and proper. Well, he would be, if it weren't for the few traces of red and purple edging their way above his collar and around his wrists. He raises an eyebrow appreciatively. Oh, Sebastian, you certainly did a good job there.

"So am I gonna get a shower in before I have to start cowering and explaining myself, or do you just want to get straight to it?"

Deep down, he could tell that both of them knew he would never 'cower', but it was simply a way to hand the baton of control over to Jim, like it should be.

That smug little bastard grin pulls at Jim's lips.

"Oh, I don't know," he says, in that perversely sing-song fashion, uncrossing his legs before crossing them again the opposite way. Even that movement seems narcissistic, somehow.

"I kind of like you all.. dishevelled. It's delicious."

He laughs softly to himself, before lifting his coffee cup and taking an elegant sip.

He puts down the cup, and all at once his expression becomes serious. It's unsettling, the way he flits from mood to mood like that without warning. Makes one wonder what he's really feeling, what's underneath.

"But, no, go shower."

"Thank fuck for that..." he rumbles, pulling himself upright and strolling towards the bathroom. "Because I seriously stink." He rolls his shoulders as he passes by Jim, the muscles in his back twitching in response. Reaching for the door handle, he pulls it shut without even so much of a glance over his shoulder.

Flicking the dial on the shower to the right setting (colder than Jim has it, the criminal seems to enjoy it hot), Sebastian climbed in, simply letting the water run down him and rinse off some of the evidence of last night. While he's in here, he might assess some of the damage. Running his fingers carefully over some of the bruises and scratches that mar his skin, tanned from years in the military, he winces a few times. Nothing more, though. The big one is the one on his neck, but he's happy with that one. Hurts like a bitch, but it's a nice reminder of what happened.

He grunts softly to himself, flicking the shower off and climbing out, wrapping a black towel round his waist. Sebastian begins to search for his clothes, but then remembers that christ, they're still strewn around the sofa. Probably ripped, anyway.

He wanders out, hair dripping rivulets of water down his back as he goes to lean against the kitchen counter, staring wordlessly at Jim.

Jim raises his eyebrows at Sebastian, in a sort of bored, unimpressed expression. But he is kind of impressed, just by that beautiful breathtaking sight of his sniper shirtless and wet and decorated deliciously with blooms of yellow-purple and dashes of red. His eyes linger on the particularly brilliant bite-mark on his neck; he's really rather proud of that.

"..coffee?"

He prompts finally, tilting his head with that smoothly reptilian movement towards the half-full cafetiere on the counter. He isn't going to say anything about what he knows Sebastian wishes to discuss; the sniper is going to have to broach that topic himself. Personally, Jim isn't all that bothered about talking about it. He's never been one to put labels on anything - himself, his sexuality, his relationships. That has confused people from time to time, got him into 'trouble'. But it never bothered him. If Sebastian wants to be in love with him, fine. If Sebastian wants to fuck him viciously from time to time, brilliant. If, however, Sebastian expects anything like an emotional confession in return, he's going to be disappointed. Jim usually keeps his emotions fairly close to the surface, yes, especially anger. He's never been the calm, quiet type. But he is not up for making himself vulnerable, especially to a man who is already so close to him. That just wouldn't bode well for either of them.

Nodding, he remains silent, wandering over to stretch an arm up and grab a mug from the cupboard above Jim's head. Damn it, the bastard's sat here on purpose, he's sure of it. Sat here so he can see him and smell him, and if he really wanted to, just reach out and touch him. Worship him.

But he doesn't. Because Sebastian Moran considers himself an expert in self control.

So he pours himself a coffee, and hoists himself up onto the counter, not bothering to find a chair. He lets himself breathe in the rich aroma rolling up from his mug, bringing to his lips and savouring the bitterness of it. No sugar; Sebastian has always seen it as unnecessary, detracting from the blend of the coffee itself. In a way, it reminds him of Jim. Sharp, bitter, and more often than not, catching him unaware and burning him. He smiles at the analogy, watching the dark liquid ripple and wave.

"So." Sebastian finally speaks, without rushing, but resolutely.

"Last night." He leaves it there. He doesn't feel the need to explain himself.

"What about last night?" Jim asks smoothly over the lip of his coffee cup, barely batting an eyelid. Yes, of course it's inevitable that they're going to have to discuss things, because Sebastian is only human, whereas Jim would be perfectly content not to do so. But if it will keep Sebastian content for a while, he will oblige. After all, he needs to keep his pets relatively happy to keep them loyal.

"I assume you want to place some sort of label on this.. relationship we have," he drawls, before taking a small, measured sip of coffee. He takes his black but sweetened to the point of almost being sickly, like his smiles. That is, when he's not drinking some fancy concoction in an overpriced café - preferably somewhere in Italy... His mind is wandering again. He puts the cup down on the counter, all the while holding eye contact with Sebastian. It's almost impossible to read anything in those dark, dark eyes; they're brown really, but appear black, pupils melting seamlessly into the irises and providing a stark contrast against the whites. Intense, his gaze bores into Sebastian's, interrogating.

If he's being perfectly honest, Sebastian doesn't know what he wants. His first idea is simply 'something normal', but that would never do. Normal wouldn't work, not for them. He takes a little while to let his thoughts wander, eyes sweeping over the room, his mug, but mostly Jim. Idly, he wonders whether to just be done with this now, but it seems a little pointless when it's obvious that he could at least get something out of it.

"I don't know." He finally murmurs, tilting his head back to rest it against the cupboard.

"But it would be an awful shame if there wasn't a repeat of last night." He drains his mug, setting it down gently, letting his arms lie draped over his lap. "You sounded like you rather enjoyed it." He can't keep the smirk off his lips at that, and why should he? The memory is his alone, would never be anyone's but his. He is allowed to enjoy it. Bringing his eyes back down from the ceiling, they lock back onto Jim's again, grey versus brown.

"Oh darling, trust me, you were making quite the little racket yourself," Jim purrs, tongue darting out over his lips.

"Repeats - definitely allowed.." He muses, tracing a fingertip thoughtfully around the rim of his cup, "but Sebastian, tiger.."

He pauses, and sets the cup down on the counter with a light clink. For a few seconds he says nothing, just watching Sebastian carefully, head tilted to the side.

"Surely you haven't forgotten already what you said to me last night."

He stands, and paces over Sebastian with an unnervingly feline gait. Finally he stops, facing Sebastian, merely a few feet apart. His gaze flickers down, across the man's torso, which is so beautifully marred by old scars underneath fresh bruises and tears. It's almost impossible to resist the urge to touch, but he manages. His voice is low and a little dangerous when he speaks again.

"I think we both know you're after more than a quick fuck now and again."

He almost shivers when Jim calls him 'tiger'. Almost. The word just has this glorious quality to it, tumbling from Jim's lips accentuated with his lazy Irish drawl. Fucking beautiful.

"Perhaps I am."

Reaching a hand up, he scratches at the stubble forming on his jawline, vaguely returning to the recurring thought of how Jim always appears so clean shaven. It's always confused him. Maybe he'd ask someday, now they were...well, closer, at least. He lets his eyes trail down, down past Jim's pale neck to the buttons of his shirt (you could rip it off he'd look so much better, you know he would Sebastian just do it) and back up again, coming to rest not on his eyes, but the dark eyelashes that framed them. Eyelashes most girls would just die for.

"But you know what they say. Beggars can't be choosers, now, can they, boss?" Sebastian lets the words roll off his tongue, putting more care into them than he'd like to admit.

"Never thought of you as one to beg, though, 'Bastian," he counters easily, voice like velvet. He had followed Sebastian's gaze, and smirks slightly to see where it wandered. Really, he can read that man almost too easily; it's a crucial factor for him when selecting new... employees.

Jim reaches out slowly, but not hesitantly - thoughtfully, and brushes his fingertips lightly, so lightly, over the particularly brutal bite wound he left on Sebastian's neck. Then his fingers travel upwards, along the man's jaw, cheekbone, and finally sliding into his hair. He brushes his thumb over Sebastian's torn, slightly swollen bottom lip. Poor thing. All the while he reads the man's reactions, gauging carefully. When he speaks again his voice is low, strangely soft.

"Tell me what you want, Sebastian," he murmurs, tilting his head this way and that, inches from Sebastian's. Manipulative little bastard.

Flinching slightly when he feels the brush of fingers over his skin, Sebastian forces himself to close his eyes, breathe in deeply, calm the /fuck/ down. He can feel that little tilt of Jim's head by the way his breath is hitting his face, that reptilian movement that's become more of a habit than a conscious action. Breathe, Moran. He's just trying to get under your skin (you could definitely take him now just pin him to the floor what the hell are you waiting for do it) in that way he knows he can.

"I've already told you. I don't know." He steels himself for a sarcastic reply, a change in mood, sudden violence, perhaps, but he surprises himself by continuing.

"All I know is that it would involve you, and me. I hadn't exactly planned this far ahead. Don't have a speech written up for you, I'm afraid." His voice was calm, even to the point of insolence.

"We are already involved, Sebby darling.."

Jim murmurs, though his focus is less on his words now and more on Sebastian's mouth. He uses his thumb to pull his bottom lip away from his teeth slightly, watching as if fascinated. Sebastian really is quite the beautiful specimen, and if it was down to Jim he would simply keep the man and use him however he fancied at the time. Well, that is basically what he does do - although Sebastian has this annoying notion of 'independence'. He wonders about beating that out of him; there are ways he has, careful methods of psychological violence that could turn Sebastian into an obedient dog more than the barely-tame tiger he is currently.

But where would be the fun in that? After all, it is Sebastian's feral streak that makes this whole thing so exciting.

Jim huffs a frustrated sort of sigh, lets his hand slip from the man's face to rest against his neck. He runs his fingers idly over the mark there. Damnit, things are so /complicated/ when other people are involved. This is why he always stays distant, aloof. Never risks getting /involved/. But now, he supposes he is, whether he likes it or not. Getting rid of Sebastian at this point just is not an option he will consider.

"You're mine," he muses, tone fairly neutral, thoughtful. "But what to do with you?"

He leans into Jim's hand, letting out a soft sigh, pissed at himself. Perhaps he's after a little affection. Maybe just recognition. Whatever it is that's driven him into this stupid, fantastic situation, it's not right for someone in his line of career. Snipers shouldn't be able to feel. Snipers shouldn't be attention seeking twats. And yet here he was.

"Whatever you want." Sebastian mutters, glaring off to his right somewhere. "It's not like I'm going anywhere, is it?"

He knew that he would go, were he forced, but he didn't like to think about how he'd been before Jim. The shitty accommodation, the occasional 'commission', and the dull ache for drugs he couldn't afford. Sebastian couldn't go back to just existing. Not after living like this.

He considers for a moment whether he should just leave it at that, jerk his head away and go and put some clothes on, but he doubts that would get him any further. They'd never bring this up again, and he'd spend all of his time alternating between hating Jim and loathing himself, and frankly, he'd rather not.

"No, no you're not, my dear..."

Jim murmurs contemplatively, the corner of his lip pulling upwards slightly as he feels Sebastian lean into his touch.

It's not particularly surprising, but he revels in the affirmation that Sebastian craves his affection so. He kind of gets a kick out of it.

So of course he's going to milk it.

Tilting his head again, to a better angle, he leans forward, nudges Sebastian's face upwards, and presses his lips to the other man's.

It's light and almost mockingly gentle, a twisted parody of tender. Partially he only does it because he's run out of words and cannot be bothered searching for any more. That, and he just.. wants to do it. Sebastian's lips taste vaguely of blood and coffee and feel like they were made to fit against his. Although, that thought is sickeningly sentimental.

He twitches back a little in surprise at how gentle Jim's being, but doesn't pull away. He kisses back cautiously, watching the other warily at first, but then letting his eyes close. When he pulls back, his eyebrows are furrowed; not quite in confusion, it's more curiosity than anything else.

At some point while he had his eyes shut, he notices, his arms have found their way around the smaller man. He draws them back hesitantly, not wanting to provoke a reaction, but not wanting to let go completely. They come to rest on Jim's hips, so much gentler than his sadistic caresses the night before.

"Jim...?" He breathes, unsure quite what to do. Does he try to advance on him? Does he back down completely? If he's being perfectly honest with himself, he doesn't quite know what the fuck is going on. Jim's running rings around him again; whatever goes on in that twisted head of his is far too complicated for Sebastian to even comprehend.

"Mm," Jim mumbles non-committally, ducking in for another little kiss. To be completely frank he doesn't really know where he's going with this either. Plans are all well and good in his line of work, but he doesn't really have one now. Before a plan can be formed, he needs to do a little more research.

"Yes, Sebastian?" He coos, sliding his fingers into the sniper's hair and twisting slightly, though not quite enough to hurt. He doesn't move back much, brushing the tip of his nose against Sebby's. Really, he just wants to play with him for a while, push him around to see just how far he'll go before he snaps. And, hopefully, gain more of an insight into just what it is Sebastian really wants; he has to know, whether consciously or not.

His breath hitches as he stares into Jim's dark eyes. Damn it... This really is a weakness. Look at him. A little close proximity, and he is going all soft. Pathetic, Sebastian. Pathetic.

He subconsciously grips Jim's hips a little tighter, lest he try to get away. Eyes narrowing, he tilts his head back slightly, just far enough so that they aren't touching anymore, just far enough that he can think clearly again.

There are so many things he wants to know, wants to ask; things he could quite happily stand and scream at Jim, and things that could only ever be whispered into his ear in the middle of an embrace. So many things, and yet he can't just choose one, or everything will come hurtling out.

"...what are you doing?" he finally settles on, voice perhaps a little weaker than he'd intended.

Jim raises his eyebrows, giving Sebastian his signature "are-you-mentally-challenged" look.

"What does it look like, sweetheart?"

His fingers migrate to rest in a light yet definitely possessive grip at the back of Sebastian's neck, nails scraping just lightly over the skin there. Of course he knows that the sniper isn't that obtuse, but, of course, he's going to be a bitch about it.

Glaring at the smaller man, he brings his head back down so their foreheads are resting against each other's.

"It looks like you're trying to be a manipulative little shit."

Sebastian pulls Jim in closer, breath rolling over the smaller man's face.

"So I guess the question should really be, what do you want from me?"

He brings his lips tantalisingly close to Jim's, but leaving just the tiniest gap between them, making no move to do anything else whatsoever.

"Oh, you do know me so well," Jim chuckles, darkly. Yes, that is exactly what he's trying to do - although perhaps not as successfully as he had thought. Never mind that, though. This reaction from his pet is far more interesting.

He stands up a little taller, leans up so he can just brush his lips against Sebastian's as he speaks. That's all, though, just a ghost's touch. He isn't about to give in, either.

"And therefore, you should know how I hate to put labels on these things. All I ask of you is your unfaltering loyalty, obedience.. ownership of your soul, etcetera."

That last little clause isn't really much of an exaggeration. Jim's opinion of souls and the existence thereof is pretty grey, but if they exist, Sebastian's belongs to him.

Sebastian's nostrils flare very slightly as he struggles to stay perfectly still. He is not going to let Jim get the better of him. Not again.

"You know for a fact that you already own me. Don't rub it in."

He'd like to say something hurtful, spit the words into Jim's face to show him that he's not quite your average housecat, but Sebastian knows the difference between independence and foolishness. Admitting the truth, however, simply gives him something to concentrate on; forcing back the disgust and self pity that rolls up in waves as he tells this man, this weak little man that he could take down with little more than a flick of his hand, that he belongs to him.

"..yeah, okay, that's true. I just like to hear you say it,"

Jim's taunting him, pulling back a fraction with that shit-eating self satisfied grin that's earned him a punch in the mouth more than once. He sways a little on the spot - or, not so much sways, as oscillates, tilting his head to examine Sebastian's expression from all angles.

He holds the other man's gaze for a few seconds, reading him, then finally he stepped back, giving Sebastian a light shove in the chest. It's just to make space between them; he knows full well that his strength is nothing in comparison to the sniper's.

He takes a few steps backwards, and already his phone is in his hand. He has remembered something.

"Sebastian," he begins, and it's like he's a totally different person now; the grin is gone, replaced with a scowl. He holds up the phone screen, on which a log of text messages between him and Sebastian is displayed.

"You never answered my question."

[ ...oh god. You're not...Not him. Not that jumped up detective. –SM]

[ Please don't say that. –SM]

[ What the hell are you implying, Sebastian? – JM]

Now he flushes. Of all times to fucking blush, he does it now. What an arsehole.

"I just..." He glares at Jim, a full power, angry scowl, and stalks off to the other side of the kitchen. It's not far, barely more than a few feet, but it feels like miles.

He slams his hands down on the counter, breathing deeply. Sebastian takes his time, but when he does finally answer, he's facing away from the other man, back arched in frustration, voice low and gravelly.

"I thought for a moment, that you and that Holmes bastard..." Snarling, his hands clench into fists.

"You're so fucking obsessed with him. I thought maybe there was something more to it than twisted curiosity." He huffs air from his nose, turning back round, but refusing to meet Jim's eyes, posture tense and hunched up.

He isn't going to go into how his stomach had dropped when he thought he might have lost his boss to the overconfident prick. Jim didn't need to know that. Stuff like that was... Private, if not forbidden completely.

The whole while Sebastian works himself up like that, gets frustrated, Jim just stands there, doing that thing he does of being infuriatingly calm.

"Oh, Sebastian, darling," he murmurs, once the sniper has finished growling his words and abusing the kitchen surfaces.

"I'm afraid there are some things that your little kitty cat mind will simply never quite be able to grasp.."

A little half-smile graces his lips, eyebrows raised slightly, but the smile doesn't meet his eyes. There's something like melancholia there, hard to read, /complicated/.

"And my.. relationship with Sherlock Holmes is one such thing."

He paces over, gait nonchalant as always, to stand close to Sebastian, bringing their proximity back almost to what it had been minutes ago. About a foot apart, perhaps a little less. The criminal tilted his head up, and blinked curiously at Sebastian.

"You were jealous, though."

That smile changes, twists into a cruel smirk.

"You want to be the object of my 'obsession', don't you?"

And at that he laughs, and he knows it's a cruel thing to do, knows that at the rate he's going with winding Sebastian up in such a way he's due a punch in the fact or something similar really quite soon. But that's Jim Moriarty. Everything is just .. a game.

"Your obsession?" Sebastian chuckles dryly, humourlessly. "No, I don't. I've seen how you treat your playthings. When you're done, you just toss them aside."

He folds his arms over his chest, effectively creating a barrier between him and Jim, an impenetrable wall.

"You're like a spoilt child, aren't you? Always doing what he pleases..."

Narrowing his eyes, he studies Jim, as if he were looking into his head. In reality, he's just wondering how long Jim has had those dark circles under his eyes, how long it's been since he's slept properly. Stupid bastard, always working himself to the bone. Wasn't healthy at all.

His mouth twitches; not quite a smile, but not quite a frown.

"I think in the long run, I'd much rather be a pet than a plaything, Jim."

Jim will only allow Sebastian to stare at him like that for so long before he snaps. He almost, almost closes the gap between them, standing up on tiptoes so that from the right angle it would look like a kiss; millimetres apart, he threads his fingers into the man's damp hair and tightens his grip. Hard.

"Too bad for you, darling," he snarls, and when he snarls he really snarls, so the words barely sound human anymore, twisted and dangerous, "You blew your chances of that when you fucked me. Last time I checked bestiality wasn't on my list of turn-ons."

Yes, he's exaggerating, being a bit of a twat about it, really. Of course Sebastian is his pet - they've both known that for some time. But right now, there's something about the term he can't stand. It's.. too affectionate.

He tilts forwards to close that gap, but instead of a kiss he snaps his teeth into Sebastian's lip again and splits it freshly open.

"You're a man for hire, darling, and I hired you. Now.." he cocks his head thoughtfully, licking Sebastian's blood off his lips, "You're my fucktoy. If you don't think you can deal with that without getting emotionally involved.." His hip curls disdainfully at that, "Then I suggest you leave now." He steps back, and crosses his arms over his chest, too. "It will take a while to find a replacement for you."

He hisses angrily as his lips is spilt open again, but there's nothing passionate about it this time. This is one man, asserting his dominance over the other through aggression.

And Sebastian has had enough.

"It would take years to find a replacement. I know your track record with your assassins, Jim, and I know you haven't kept me around this long simply because of my winning smile." His arms unfold, muscles tensing as he growls into his boss' face. Fingers reaching up to burrow into the soft flesh of Jim's shoulders, he squeezes, drawing him closer.

"And from what I recall, judging by your reaction last night," Sebastian sneers, "I doubt you'll be finding a better fucktoy soon, either."

Flinging him away, he stands his ground, eyes narrowing. Anyone would swear he was baring his teeth, preparing to lash out, to claw at Jim's face; they would have been well off the mark. The sniper has no intention of hurting the smaller man. He wouldn't escape with his life.

"I'm not just some common civilian you can take for granted. It would probably do you good to remember that." He swipes the blood off his lip with a clenched fist, teeth ground together bitterly.

Jim allows himself to be thrown back and consequently feels himself crash hard into the counter behind him, the corner of which digs into his painfully into his back, sure to add another bruise to the collection that's already there.

For a moment he is just still, a little stunned by the outburst. Of course it isn't unexpected; he'd been dangling Sebastian over a ledge for what felt like forever now. And he'd finally fallen. It isn't a surprise, but he's winded by his crash into the counter and in all honestly just a little bit fascinated.

So much power in his tiger, such energy, such passion. And every word Sebastian said is the truth. Jim has no intention of replacing him. None at all.

It takes a few moments, but he finally pulls himself together enough to stand up straight, wincing just a little at the pain in his spine, and pad back towards Sebastian.

"There you are." he purrs, and he wears a dark, dark smile that isn't really a smile at all anymore.

Before Sebastian can shove him away again, Jim rises to his toes and grabs the sniper's face, pulling him down in a sudden jerking movement and kissing him. It is a kiss more than a bite but still is violent, hard and a little cruel.

Snarling into Jim's mouth, Sebastian kisses him back furiously, hands knotting into his hair and tugging, harder than was probably necessary. But this was Jim. Jim could handle it. The bastard would never let him know if he'd hurt him, anyway.

He bites at his lip with a raw sort of ferocity, but even now, when he's close to seeing red in his furious state, he's careful not to break the skin. It would never do to have Jim meet a client with a split lip. As well as that, the little shit was so vain that he'd be bitching about it for weeks. Christ, he didn't want to put up with that.

He pulled away, panting, eyes dark. "What the fuck are you trying to do, Jim?" he gasps, his breathing taking its time to even out.

"What sort of game are you playing here?" The sniper is certainly calmer than before, but his voice still holds a dangerous edge to it. He doesn't appreciate being played with. Sebastian is a tiger, not a kitten, and he's almost had enough of this. Almost.

Jim growls in frustration when Sebastian pulls back, leaning forward to try to capture his lips again. He presses kisses to the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, brushing his ear. God damnit, why does he insist on so many questions all the time, so much /talking/?

"I don't know," he finally leans back and glares darkly at the other, nails scraping through Sebastian's hair, "I haven't exactly got a rule book."

He tilts his head to the side studiously, stroking circles with his thumb at the nape of Sebastian's neck in a fashion that was dangerously close to affectionate.

"I imagine it's one of strategy.."

He leans up and pushes another quick kiss to Sebastian's mouth. He can't help it, the man is fucking delicious. It's like putting candy in front of a child and telling it not to touch.

"Why? Would you like to quit?"

His body responds to the fleeting touches against his will, strong hands coming up to rest on the back of Jim's neck. Sebastian would have pushed him away again, but then where would he have been? To push away a criminal mastermind who was intent on kissing however much of him he could reach... Well, that would be very stupid indeed.

"I'm no quitter." He grunts, revelling in the feel of Jim's mouth on his. And god, he's so weak, so much weaker than he'd thought, because that's all it takes for his arms to slide around the smaller man, grasping at the back of his shirt as he leans down to mouth along his neck, so much softer than before.

If he hadn't been so focused on the other, on his taste and his smell and how he felt underneath his lips, he'd have been disgusted with himself; disgusted with how he had been reduced from a killer to someone's plaything, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn't care less.

"Besides, this is just getting interesting."

A soft, breathy not-quite-moan falls from Jim's open mouth at the smooth brush of Sebastian's lips along his neck. Well, that's different, that's almost tender, and it makes him shiver in a way that he isn't sure is altogether good. He doesn't want Sebastian to be /nice/ like that. It's foreign and unsettling, but oh /god/ he likes it.

He clutches handfuls of Sebastian's hair, forcing himself closer. Not that they can really get all that much closer - well, not in the position they were in, at least. Gasping softly for breath, he smooths his fingers over Sebastian's hair and holds him still for just a moment.

"Oh, good, I do so /hate/ to be boring," he sings, voice lightly mocking and half laughing breathlessly.

"You? Boring? You're many things, Jim, but you've never been boring."

His breathing is slowing; temper cooling down as Jim's fingers knot into his hair, anchoring him, steadying him. Sebastian's hands, calloused and scarred from conflicts of the past, unfurl from the light shirt, fists spreading out slowly until his hands are cupped around Jim's arse. It's not a gesture that's possessive, or violent, or fuelled by lust. It's simple. It feels like it fits, and that's why he does it.

Sebastian pulls the smaller man flush up against him in a manner most would never consider gentle; it's far too jerky, too rough for a normal embrace. And yet, what might seem like aggression to most people would be tender to a tiger, and only him and his handler would realise it.

Moving up from Jim's neck to the side of his face, he stops by his ear, just breathing. Waiting.

Jim releases a little sigh as Sebastian pulls them together, and his body melts to fit the other's (ah, the heat of him). As he expels the breath he relaxes almost completely, tilting his head and taking a brief moment to rest his cheek against Sebastian's. His fingers loosen in his hair and his arms slip down to loop around Sebastian's neck. And oh, for that fleeting desperate moment all Jim wants to do is lean on him and be held like that and-

No. He forces his mind away from that sort of dangerous thinking, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. His intentions were never to get attached, and now he hates Sebastian for being so - so fucking tender.

Jim takes in a deep breath, full of Sebastian's smokey warm scent. The bastard, why does he have to be so.. tempting?

With a little sound of frustration he pulls away. He takes a couple of quick steps backwards until he hits the counter, then hoists himself up smoothly so he's sitting on the cool marble surface. Tilting his head pseudo-coyly to the side, he spreads his legs deliberately slowly; a space for Sebastian's hips to fit.

Breathing in as Jim's arms drop, the tension drains from his shoulders as he feels Jim's skin on his, hot and smooth and rough and exactly right.

And suddenly, gone.

Sebastian almost flinches as Jim moves away, ready to take a swing at him for messing him around like that; stupid fucking bastard, it's always a game... But his hand never curls into the fist he's expecting, just twitches at his side as he drinks in the sight of Jim, legs splayed, waiting. He sighs through his nose quietly, blinking, before moving over as he knows Jim intended him to.

He rests himself in the space between Jim's thighs deliberately, arms rested on either side of his slim hips. The sniper was no genius compared to his boss, but he knew that he could just forget all of this, take Jim here and now and just have him, and neither of them would complain (yes Sebastian go on do it he wants it). But he'd seen Jim relax into him, felt it against his chest. A quick rut against the counter like a sex-starved teenager isn't particularly high on his priorities right now.

Jim makes a pleased little purring sound deep in his throat as Sebastian slips in against him. Such a perfect fit, such a lovely feeling, like finally completing a very difficult puzzle with a million pieces.

He slips his arms around Sebastian's waist, spreading his hands across his back. His fingertips mapped out the smooth curves and contours of the man's lean, powerful muscles, the very slight bumps of his vertebrae. He walks his fingers along them, then dusts them down his ribs, fitting his fingers in the little dips between them. Oh, but he could spend hours doing just that alone. Would become a cartographer purely to draw maps of this man, his skin and sinews and muscle and bone, his arteries, his nervous system, every hair on his body.

What is it about Sebastian Moran he found so fascinating?

Jim bows his head slightly, almost reverently, and leans forward so that his forehead rests just below the man's sternum. Then he turns his head a little, to listen to his heartbeat, and closes his eyes, and goes still.

He could feel Jim against his chest, the quiet noises vibrating in his throat against Sebastian's skin as his fingers skimmed over his skin, tracing unknown patterns, drawing pictures that would remain invisible forever and writing notes that could never be read. Inhaling, he filled his lungs with air, before he felt Jim's soft hair brush his skin, leading to his forehead. Exhaling slowly, he tilts his head back, allowing the other just a few moments of peace, stealing some for himself as well.

Things like this, moments where the atmosphere was calm and quiet, where Sebastian could swear he could hear Jim's heartbeat, wouldn't come around very often. He'd better savour it while it lasted.

Before too long, he brought his gaze back down again, breathing softly as his eyes rested on the smaller man. Sebastian wouldn't be so disrespectful as to shatter the silence by saying something stupid; instead, he simply brings a hand up to Jim's face. It was times like these when the difference in their heights and statures became apparent, Sebastian's fingers large enough to cover Jim's face completely. But they don't; of course they don't. They curl up around his unshaven cheek gently, Sebastian's thumb deviating from the pattern to rub softly at the silken skin behind Jim's ear.

No, moments like this, he had to savour. Moments like this one were rare in most people's lifetimes, he was sure of it. He couldn't say his heart was swelling, or bursting with love, or some soppy shit like that. It just felt right, and that was the only thing he had to go on.

For a brief moment Jim thinks that maybe he could just stay like that forever, and forget everything to the constant rhythm of Sebastian's heart-

But he catches himself, reminds himself who he is. He is Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal. There is no room in him for sentimentality. No heart, no soul, he prides himself on what he doesn't have. No conscience, not a care for another living being.

So why Sebastian? What is it that this man does to him that makes him feel almost human?

He can't let it get to him. He won't. No matter how tempting it is to have him - all at once Jim finds himself afraid. Not afraid, surely not, not Jim Moriarty -

Concerned, perhaps. Mustn't lose his touch, and so, even though a strange sort of feeling that comes dangerously close to hurt hits him - he finally leans back and lays his hands on Sebastian's chest and pushes him away, despite his strength being nothing against him.

"Get off. I have work to do."

PS - Sorry about the shoddy editing. I know there are occasional jumps in tense used.. and probably plenty of typos and suchlike. This has been written through exchange of emails and speed-edited by me and we have no beta, so sorry. If anyone fancied beta reading this, actually, that would be very cool.

PPS - There is more already written, it's just that editing it from emails is an effort.

PPPS - Can also be found on AO3 under the same title.