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turanteAnd I start the new year by... posting something I wrote last year! (well, yesterday, but still, in 2010!)
I also have a vegan recipe to use the leftover champagne, and I assure that normal humour and/or Lestrade/Sherlock services will be restored as soon as possible.
Rating: R
Pairing: Jim/John
Word Count: 221B
Warnings: mentions of Knife Play, Asphyxiation, a bit Dub-Con (well, it IS Moriarty, after all. I have to let him out and play on his terms from time to time)
A/N: Inspired by the brilliant drawings by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sadynax, if you haven't seen them GO, NOW!!! And by both the remix meme and the Random Pairing Generator insistence. Also a recent obsession fuelled by crocodile_eat_u, you know I'm going to be dedicating *every* Moriarty fic to you, right?
Title: Not Even If My Life Depended On It
“Not even if my life depended on it,” John repeated resolutely for what felt like the thousandth time; Jim twirled the knife in his hand and sat in front of him, eyes gleaming dangerously with the desire to prove him wrong.
“Really? How about we test your resolution?” he asked, leaning a bit closer, and John rolled his eyes, hating having to repeat himself just as much as the psychopath in front of him loved to.
“Haven’t we already?” he asked, a droplet of sweat running down his spine as he remembered the flat of the blade pressing against his neck or the times he thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air.
“Yes, I suppose everyone is braver with their own life,” he whispered, putting down the knife and tracing a finger up his chest, digging his nail a bit as he followed the same route down. “How about I threaten to hurt someone you care about?”
John bit his lip, thinking quickly, “I didn’t think you, of all people, were into self-harm.”
Jim laughed loudly. “Don’t be silly, I need a serious face for my business.” John rolled his eyes again. “You know I meant Sherlock.”
“He can take care of himself. And we discussed this. We can shag, but kisses are out of bounds.”
I also have a vegan recipe to use the leftover champagne, and I assure that normal humour and/or Lestrade/Sherlock services will be restored as soon as possible.
Rating: R
Pairing: Jim/John
Word Count: 221B
Warnings: mentions of Knife Play, Asphyxiation, a bit Dub-Con (well, it IS Moriarty, after all. I have to let him out and play on his terms from time to time)
A/N: Inspired by the brilliant drawings by
sadynax, if you haven't seen them GO, NOW!!! And by both the remix meme and the Random Pairing Generator insistence. Also a recent obsession fuelled by crocodile_eat_u, you know I'm going to be dedicating *every* Moriarty fic to you, right?Title: Not Even If My Life Depended On It
“Not even if my life depended on it,” John repeated resolutely for what felt like the thousandth time; Jim twirled the knife in his hand and sat in front of him, eyes gleaming dangerously with the desire to prove him wrong.
“Really? How about we test your resolution?” he asked, leaning a bit closer, and John rolled his eyes, hating having to repeat himself just as much as the psychopath in front of him loved to.
“Haven’t we already?” he asked, a droplet of sweat running down his spine as he remembered the flat of the blade pressing against his neck or the times he thought he was going to pass out from the lack of air.
“Yes, I suppose everyone is braver with their own life,” he whispered, putting down the knife and tracing a finger up his chest, digging his nail a bit as he followed the same route down. “How about I threaten to hurt someone you care about?”
John bit his lip, thinking quickly, “I didn’t think you, of all people, were into self-harm.”
Jim laughed loudly. “Don’t be silly, I need a serious face for my business.” John rolled his eyes again. “You know I meant Sherlock.”
“He can take care of himself. And we discussed this. We can shag, but kisses are out of bounds.”
