[hotel verse]

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

It works a lot like last time. He wakes up, still in his suit and tie, with his arm slipped around Jim's waist. The way the used to when they were in school.

The thought occurs to him, the crash of old ideas and new, schoolboy adoration and rooftop loathing.

He draws in a quick breath and stays purposefully, staring down at Moriarty in confusion, taking slow stock of how close they're entwined.

Comments

[napoleonofcrime]

"And after that?"

He sighs.

"If you do win- which you won't- if you're able to come home safe and sound?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"A few yeas to make John feel better, then probably a run in with a violent criminal."

He shrugs.

"An automobile accident, an overdose."

[napoleonofcrime]

"John assaulted a police officer and ran with you."

He smiles, licking idly at him.

"You can't resurface without being subjected to a criminal investigation."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Mycroft will see that it turns out well."

He dismisses.

"I don't mind taking favours from him when he owes me."

[napoleonofcrime]

"Doesn't really matter," he dismisses. "Mycroft can't change everyone's mind. He can't make them give you cases again."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"There will always be cases. It will be like before."

When he was unknown, when his clients were few and far between.

[napoleonofcrime]

"You'll just die."

Jim shrugs and goes to sucking him. Better.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He actually hadn't seen that coming, he'd been so distracted by the conversation that this is not what he was expecting. Sherlock lets out a garbled yowl.

[napoleonofcrime]

The sound makes him almost giggle around Sherlock's cock, but that probably won't turn out to well- so he holds back, but only just, and instead lets his nails dig deep, red lines into Sherlock's hips.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He moans in response, twisting up into the touch, all soft sounds of agreement and pleasure.

[napoleonofcrime]

Good, alright. Jim works at him sloppily, letting his nails provide a grounding of pain to go against the pleasure.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

It works perfectly- and quickly. A few more seconds and Sherlock gasps a warning, graceful hand sliding down to cup the back of his head.

[napoleonofcrime]

He moves off then, using his fingers to finish. No sense in getting a mess all over him.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

It takes a few more seconds, as he gets used to the switch, but he yelps and comes not long thereafter, groaning softly.

[napoleonofcrime]

Jim avoids it, letting it splatter along Sherlock's stomach before pulling himself up to sit next to him on the floor.

"Is that it, then?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Now we try the door."

He murmurs.

"But you may have doomed us with that. Remember what I told you about desire and emotional resolution?"

[napoleonofcrime]

He shakes his head.

"If I have to desire you, we may as well starve."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Try the door."

He suggests, lazily.

[napoleonofcrime]

Jim slowly gets himself all up and collected first.

"Are you just going to lay there, silly?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"For the time being."

He's content.

[napoleonofcrime]

"Lazy, lazy."

The door opens when he tries it, and a smirk rests against his features.

"Ha."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Goodbye, Jim."

Pale eyes closing.

[napoleonofcrime]

"No post-coital cuddling?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Kiss me right now and I'll rip out your tonsils."

He promises, with a yawn.

[napoleonofcrime]

He snorts in laughter and the door closes behind him when he leaves.