Moriarty hated taxis, but due to a combination of Sebastian being otherwise engaged and the relatively tiny explosion in central London that he may or may not have had something to do with, causing the whole underground and a good majority of all bus services to grind to a halt, he'd grudgingly thrust his arm out, trying to attract the attention of one of the seemingly hundreds of cabs driving past. It took a while, but one finally pulled in. He gave the address before the cabbie even had a chance to exhale, and pulled out his phone for something to do.
He'd been playing Temple Run for a solid 10 minutes when the door to the front of the cab opened, and really, aren't those supposed to be locked? The small noise of terror the cabbie made caused him to slide off the temple wall. The little frown of defeat didn't last long though as he looked up and broke into a smile.
"Sebastian! So nice of you to join me!"
Sebastian shot him a look, pressing the handgun closer to the cabbie's head as he growled, "Out! Now, please."
Unsurprisingly, The cabbie made a hasty escape. Sebastian quickly slid into the seat he'd relieved of it's occupant. "Now boss, I thought I was your driver." Sebastian began conversationally as he flexed his gloved fingers across the steering wheel.
"You're my favorite driver, there's a difference, Seb. You were otherwise predisposed, and I had to take my business elsewhere." Jim replied in a tone that oozed complete innocence from any wrong-doing.
"I sincerely hope that sentiment doesn't apply to other areas of our relationship, boss." Sebastian returned as he screeched around a corner. Jim shivered. Sebastian's driving coupled by the possessive streak he'd slipped into had started to do things to him in a way that he wasn't quite ready to resolve by himself in the back of a moving taxi.
Sebastian soon pulled into one of their many warehouses after Jim had informed him they'd be keeping the taxi. He'd resumed his game of Temple Run somewhere along the way, and now Sebastian sat silently and waited for him to finish, having previously learned what happened to people who interrupted Jim when he was trying for a high score, and having the added bonus of being the one who had to clean up the blood. Jim finally put the phone down beside him on the seat, raising an eyebrow at his employee. "Aren't you going to join me, Sebastian?"
The sniper grabbed his gun from where he'd tossed it on the passenger seat earlier, before climbing out of the drivers seat and into the back portion of the cab. Jim grinned widely as Sebastian made himself comfortable, before moving to straddle his sharpshooter.
"I missed you today, Sebastian," Jim murmured darkly against Sebastian's neck, "you shall have to make it up to me. Right. Away." he punctuated his breathy whisper with soft bites to Sebastian's pulse-point, just hard enough to tease, but not to leave a mark just yet.
"Perhaps we should relocate then?"
Jim smirked against Sebastian's skin, "I'm quite comfortable where I am, 'bastian." He ground his hips down, spurred on by the slight shiver that made it's way through Sebastian's body at the realization that, yes, his boss was requesting they get it on in the back seat of a vehicle like two teenagers. Sebastian sighed in resignation as Jim playfully bit him just above the crisp collar of his pressed white oxford, before pulling back. he might have hit his head on the roof of the cab if Sebastian hadn't threaded his calloused fingers into Jim's soft hair, drawing him back in for a filthy kiss. Sebastian drew Jim's lower lip between his teeth, biting down until he could taste Jim's blood. He knew his boss wouldn't be happy with any visible marks like this, but at the moment Moriarty, his boss, and Jim, who just wanted to get off with him, we're two very separate and distinct entities.
Jim's hands travelled downwards to untuck his shirt, dragging his nails across Sebastian's hipbones and tucking his thumbs under the waistband of Sebastian's trousers as he fought to reclaim some kind of dominance. Sebastian gladly accepted Jim's violent kisses as he worked to divest the consulting criminal of the tight jeans he was wearing for whatever disguise he'd been in that day. Jim wriggled his hips in time with Sebastian's attempts, a move that, if he wasn't already rock hard would have had him there in no time. When the trousers and pants were off, Jim tugged on the bottom of his shirt, biting his lip and looking coyly through his eyelashes. It was all an act, of course, but Sebastian couldn't help the feral snarl that tore itself from his throat as he tugged at Jim's hips, pulling him flush against him.
"Let me help you with that, Mr. Moran." Jim breathed against the shell of Sebastian's ear, as his hand once again made it's way downwards, this time popping the button of Sebastian's trousers and dragging down the zip tantalizingly slowly.
"Fucking tease," Sebastian growled.
Jim froze for a split second, before he pulled back. "What did you just call me, Moran?"
If Sebastian were not a fearless killer, he might have gulped, or at least averted his gaze in shame, because when Jim called him Moran in that tone of voice, he wasn't pleased. Sebastian, however did none of these things. He stared straight back at the smaller man, defiantly. "I called you a fucking tease," he moved his hand from Jim's hip, ghosting over his thigh before trailing his fingers down the crease of Jim's ass. "and two can play at that game."
Something in Jim's fierce gaze shattered as Sebastian pressed his thumb against his opening, and he conceded with a slight gasp, reaching into the inside pocket of Sebastian's jacket for a packet of lube he'd stashed there earlier and placing the top of the packet against Sebastian's lip. Sebastian bit down on the packet dutifully and reached up to tear it open. Jim, meanwhile, returned to the task of releasing Sebastian's straining erection from the confines of his trousers. Sebastian hissed as Jim worked his hands over his cock, his fingers toying lightly with the tip before moving to encircle him fully.
"Aren't you going to get me ready?" Jim asked, doing his utmost to make it known the apparent request was indeed an order. Sebastian wasted no time in coating his fingers in the substance from the package, thanking Jim's foresight in placing it somewhere where the heat of his body would keep it warm so he wouldn't have to waste time heating it up a bit. He intended to take it slowly, teasing at the rim with the pad of his finger, but Jim was having none of it, pushing down onto the light pressure until Sebastian thrust his finger in entirely. Jim made a soft keening noise, pressing himself downwards.
Sebastian could no more ignore the order than any other order his boss gave, and subsequently a second finger joined the first, thrusting gently only for a moment before scissoring Jim open in preparation for a third. Jim threw his head back, and this time he did hit it slightly against the roof of the cab. Sebastian's free hand unclenched from Jim's hip, and he took only a second to admire the bruises beginning to blossom there before tugging Jim back down into another bruising kiss.
Jim had somehow reacquired the half empty packet of lube and got to work slicking up Sebastian with light, teasing strokes, as his other hand began shakily undoing the buttons of Sebastian's shirt. He gave up two buttons down, instead choosing to tear apart the shirt. He had never liked this shirt that much anyway; the collar was too high and hid the marks he left to let everybody know who Sebastian belonged to. With the shirt finally hanging open Jim slid his hands along Sebastian's chest, pressing on the line of a scar that cut its way across his pectorals, reaching behind his arms and bringing his hands up to rub against Sebastian's shoulder blades. As Sebastian pushed in, Jim couldn't help but dig his sharp nails into the taught muscle of Sebastian's back.
Jim moaned at the sensation of being filled, and Sebastian greedily swallowed the soft noise as he dragged his hands up Jim's torso and back down again, pulling on his hips until Jim began to move. Sebastian's thrusts turned deeper as their movements synced, causing Jim to howl out when the tip of Sebastian's cock brushed against his prostate on a particularly rough stroke. Sebastian could feel Jim teetering on the edge, and without hesitation took his hand from Jim's bruised hips, slick with sweat, and wrapped it around his boss' cock, tugging expertly in the way he knew would bring Jim spilling over. Jim bit down on his own swollen, bloodied lower lip in an attempt to muffle the groan he let out as he melted bonelessly into Sebastian, clenching tightly around Sebastian's cock. Sebastian wiped Jim's release across his stomach and thighs, reveling in his dishevelment, before tugging Jim's hips back into position as he thrust up twice more before his orgasm hit, spilling himself inside the smaller man.
It took them a moment of sharing breaths and light kisses to every available patch of skin before Sebastian became coherent enough to consider moving. After all, the back of a taxi wasn't the most comfortable of places to share a post-coital nap. He shifted Jim to the side, nonplussed by the lecherous, mumbled comment about adequately paying his fare.
"I'll get the cleaning crew to deal with this," Sebastian gestured vaguely as Jim trailed a finger through the mess on this stomach and between his thighs before bringing it up to trace a pattern on the seat. Sebastian couldn't tear his eyes away from his boss as he gathered up their clothes.
"Leave it be, Sebastian." Jim smirked, fatigue tugging at the corners of his eyes. "I rather like it better this way." He drew his dirtied fingers across his lips, parting them seductively.
Sebastian abandoned his neat pile of clothes to pull Jim back against him. "You shouldn't start something you don't intend to finish, sir."
"Whoever said I never intended to finish this?"
When Sherlock slid inside the taxi, he barely registered the stains across the seat back, unremarkable to anyone with his skills of observation that regularly travelled by London Cab. It was only when he'd been left with Jim Moriarty's knowing smirk on the pavement of a quiet London street did he put the evidence together, and realize with a shudder that the smiley-face shaped stain had been for him.