Chapter Text
Rumor has it, that if you keep a tiger caged up for weeks on end, it's only so long before it goes wild and kills the first thing it sees.
That was exactly how Sebastian Moran felt. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to destroy, to rip, tear, and kill; and it was all because of Jim Moriarty.
Sebastian had been working for Jim Moriarty for two years now, and in that time, Moriarty had managed to get Sebastian to move in with him and eventually become his slave in one sense or the other. Jim had him cleaning, cooking, buying things, and when Jim was feeling particularly lustful, he would let Sebastian fuck him into the mattress of the bed they shared.
But lately, Jim hadn't let Sebastian anywhere near him. Sebastian suspected it has something to do with his last hit. It hadn't gone as well as Jim wanted, and for that Sebastian was suffering. The hit was taken care of, but it had gotten messy. Sebastian had to chase the man down and take him out with his hands as opposed to his favored rifle. Jim blamed Sebastian for the fact that the target had been tipped off beforehand.
He picked up on it the very first night, when he went back to the flat they shared and thrown off his clothes to shower. He had ducked back into the study where Jim often holed away and offered him to join. Jim usually rewarded him after he had taken out hits; so Sebastian didn't see this any differently.
But Moriarty had simply looked at him with cold eyes and sneered, demanding he go and take a shower before his study started to smell like wet sniper. Sebastian shrugged it off with an air of confusion, but went about his business.
The same night, Sebastian had crawled into bed with Jim as they did every night. But this night, Sebastian moved his hands around Jim's waist as he did when he usually wanted to initiate something between them. Jim's hands found Sebastian's wrists and tugged them back with a savage force that Sebastian sometimes forgot Jim possessed. He was shocked at the rejection, but to keep his pride intact he just rolled over and went to sleep like a good little tiger.
******
This behavior continued for most of two weeks, but what was weirder was that Jim hadn't given him anymore hits. That's what stumped him about all of this. Sebastian was Jim's best sniper, and he was wondering why Jim wasn't giving him anything. So one evening he decided that it would be a good idea to bring it up.
They were sitting in the kitchen, Sebastian had just brought home pizza for himself; and despite Jim's constant nagging about Seb not having the army body he currently possessed for much longer, he had a slice of it too. It didn't seem like a moody night for Jim, so he decided to just get on with it.
"Question, boss" He muttered, before taking a deep pull from his beer.
"Yes Tiger?" He mumbled, peering over his cell phone. He was probably scrolling through news feeds, waiting for more news of Holmes to pop up.
"Why haven't you given me a job in almost two weeks?" He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms against his chest. Jim looked up at him with those cold, expressionless eyes.
"Go away, I'm working" He dismissed, completely ignoring Sebastian's question. Sebastian ground his teeth together, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach.
"Jesus, Jim" He cursed, standing up. His first mistake was using Jim's first name, his second was getting physical. He moved over towards Moriarty and shoved him back into his chair with the palm of his hand. "You haven't given me a job in almost two weeks! And we haven't fucked in that long either. Explain."
Jim stood up abruptly, and Sebastian could swear that if they were in a cartoon show on the telly, steam would be pouring out of Jim's ears.
"Don't ever touch me again, Moran." He seethed "You are incompetent scum, get out of my face before I kill you myself"
Sebastian didn't bother waiting around to be told the second time.
**********
The following week Sebastian had been spending almost every night at the pub he frequented. He would then proceed to stumble back to his and Jim's flat and pass out on the couch. Jim hadn't protested, just merely pretended Sebastian didn't exist.
But that specific night, Sebastian was overcome with a tense determination. He was a little buzzed from the six pints he threw back, and his veins were coursing with sexual frustration.
He approached the flat as he usually did, drunk and stumbling. The keys didn't seem to want to fit in the lock, but after a few minutes of struggling, he managed to get the door unlocked and open. It was early tonight when he arrived home, usually he didn't end up back at the flat until final call, but this time he had left several hours early, a plan forming in his mind.
"Boss?" He called out, kicking off his shoes. His idea was stupid, but he didn't want to sign for his own death by tracking mud through the flat. Last time he had done that, Jim stuck a fork into his hand.
He waited, but there was no response. The lights were on all across the flat, so he knew Jim was home. He stumbled his way through the hallways, looking in every room even though he knew exactly where Jim would be.
And much to his pleasure, and surprise, he was not in the study; but instead was stretched out on the bed with only his boxers on. He had the telly remote in his hand and he was flipping through news stations. This was probably the most relaxed Sebastian had seen Jim ever, and it took him by surprise.
"Sebastian? Jesus" Jim's voice cut through his surprise, and he remembered why he was standing there. His eyes took it in when Jim rose, grabbing for a shirt.
In three long strides, Sebastian was across the room, gripping Jim's wrist tightly. Jim looked up at him, his mouth opening, a threat most likely resting on his tongue.
"No" He stated, staring at Jim, hoping to portray how determined he was in this very moment. It took Jim a minute, but he finally caught on.
"I wouldn't, if I were you, Basher" He lilted. Sebastian's face was flush, and blood was pounding in his ears. He grabbed Jim's other wrist and spun him around so that the back of his knees were pressed against the bed. He ignored the warning that Jim issued and just smiled.
He pushed Jim back onto the bed, wasting no time in crawling to hover over the top of him, pinning his wrists above his head. His drunken mind didn't consider the fact that this was turning into sexual assault really fast, if he didn't play his cards carefully, he could end up dead under Jim's word.
"You've been mistaken for so long, Jim. You think you're king of the jungle? No, you're just the prey the tiger feeds on." He dipped his head down, pressing his mouth against Jim's jugular once, and then biting down on the same spot. He felt Jim shift and hiss at him; and Sebastian knew it was a sound of pleasure.
He lifted himself again, staring at Jim, waiting for his posture to change. Jim looked at him with cold eyes, but his face was scrunched in thought. After a moment, Jim nodded, signaling Sebastian to let his wrists free. Sebastian growled at the struggle.
"Calm down, tiger. I just want to get the lube, the last time without that didn't turn out the way I hoped" his voice was suggestive, and he sent a wink at Sebastian. Any other time, Sebastian would have picked up on the flaw in this plan, that this Jim was being far too submissive, but he had consumed too much alcohol and his larger brain had stopped functioning once his smaller one demanded attention.
He loosened his grip, giving one last glance down at Jim's half naked form before removing it all together. Jim shimmied out from underneath him and opened the bedside table drawer. He rummaged around for second, and Sebastian let his head fall against the blankets. He moved an idle hand down to his own attention deprived cock and rubbed against it with the palm of his hand.
"Alright" Jim said, moving back towards him. Before Sebastian could move his hand and look up, he felt a sharp sting in his upper arm. His head lifted in one fast, and slightly drunken, movement to look and see what it was.
What he saw was Jim, crouched next to him on the bed, his face red with anger; he also saw an empty syringe clutched tightly in the consulting criminal's hand. Confusion crossed his face and he looked down at his arm.
The very last thing he saw was a small bead of blood where Jim had stuck him with the needle, before his vision started to dim. He rolled over so that his back was flush against the bed, and he stared up a the ceiling. Was it just him, or were the lights getting dimmer?
"You made a really big mistake tiger. A really big mistake." Jim's voice swam in his head, as if it were reaching into his brain and wrapping around his spinal chord. The seconds in between each blink became longer, and soon Sebastian found himself barely able to keep his eyes open.
"Jim?" His voice was small and scrambled as he slurred out the simple three letter word. All he heard before falling off the edge was the sound of his boss' cruel laughter.