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Done. Though you could have mentioned the dogs. – SM

 

 

Just helping you stay sharp. -JM

You're welcome. – JM

 

 

Cheers. I'll remember that when I'm arrested or dead. – SM

 

 

I pay good money to not find you arrested or dead. I expect you to remember that. -JM

Were the doggies friendly, at least? - JM

Dogs like steak. - JM

And bones. -JM

And romping in fields. -JM

 

 

They were very keen on bones. Tiger bones, specifically. I didn't give them any. – SM

 

 

Keep your Tiger bones for ME, darling. -JM

 

 

I'm trying. It helps if you give me all information. Unless... you didn't not know about the dogs, did you? Did your intel fail you!? – SM

 

 

Picture me heaving a sigh and looking cross. That's an order. -JM

Did you do it? -JM

 

 

Yes, Sir. – SM

 

 

Who's a good boy?- JM

 

 

Fuck off. – SM

 

 

Don't be like that, Sebbie! Would you like a nice steak? -JM

 

 

I know a lot of assassins, you know. – SM

 

 

Keep up the snarling. There will be no juicy bones in your future. -JM

 

 

If you keep up the dog puns there will be a rabid chihuahua in your future. – SM

 

 

Not that I'm not enjoying your sparkling repartee... Oh, wait. I'm not. -JM

 

 

Anyway. I got your fucking documents. I'll be flying home tomorrow. – SM

 

 

Hallelujah, Praise Jesus. I'll pray for your safe return. -JM

 

 

Mine or your documents'? - SM (why do I sign this anyway. Like you don't know it's me.)

 

 

Well, the documents aren't replaceable. Should I picture you pouting? -JM

 

 

You try to replace me. See who you get to put up with your bullshit for as long as I have.

 

 

Touchy! You love my bullshit. Admit it. -JM

 

 

I'm fucking tired of your bullshit is what I am. I got bitten. In the arm. My gun arm.

 

 

Ohhh. When you get home, there will be a lovely bandage and a kiss waiting for you. -JM

Haven't you been in actual battles before? Now a dog bite is too much? -JM

 

 

Yeah I've been in actual battles before, unlike some civilians I could mention. Doesn't mean I enjoy getting wounded.

 

 

Jesus. I can feel you pouting from here. -JM

Why don't you have a nice wank? It'll take the edge off. -JM

WANK ONLY. And think of me. -JM

Maybe in my new suit? -JM

I give you permission to picture flattering props. A 1920's machine gun. A stylish cane. -JM

Should I buy a cane? – JM

 

 

Mmm - sounds kinky.

 

 

Now THAT got your attention. -JM

 

 

I'm drawing a bath. I'm covered in dirt and blood and fucking dog drool.

 

 

Mmm. I love it when you talk disgusting to me. -JM

 

 

Dog drool? God, you're even more depraved than I thought.

 

 

Sarcasm is lost on some people... -JM

 

 

Isn't it just...

 

 

That. Was not. -JM

 

 

Bath's full. You want to Skype?

 

 

Depends. Are you going to be sweet for me? -JM

 

 

... maybe. If you can make me forget the pain in my arm.

 

 

Picture me rolling my eyes. -JM

And pulling down my trousers. – JM

 

 

... now that might help. Video call?

 

 

Well, I do have an Empire to run... but by all means, let's see to your filthy needs. -JM

 

 

Try running your empire without me and see how that goes...

 

 

Skype ring

 

 

“Why hello there.”

 

 

“Oh! Hello!

Look at that, you *are* looking surly. How did I guess?”

 

 

I give you a two-fingered salute.

 

 

“Someone needs finishing school! You're a bit short on social graces, darling...”

 

 

“Make up for it in natural charm... oooh, that's hot...” I sigh as I sink into the bath.

 

 

I eye the bathwater.

“No, you make up for it in other ways...”

 

 

“I wasn't going to go there... but if you are looking for the opposite of short...”

 

 

“So... about those filthy needs...” I say as I slowly remove my jacket.

 

 

“Yes...?”

 

 

I slowly remove my shirt.

“*You* wanted to Skype; what do you want?”

 

 

“Exactly what I appear to be getting...”

 

 

I roll my eyes, remove my trousers, kick them at the screen.

 

 

“Very nice...” I start stroking myself underwater.

 

 

Very nice… it would be uncouth not to reciprocate. I start stroking myself through pristine white designer pants.

 

 

intake of breath “God, Jim... I've missed you...”

 

 

My eyes widen at that; I stop stroking.

“Easy, Tiger. You've been gone for *two days*...

I pull down my pants, do a slow twirl.

“I picked out an outfit specially for you. You like?”

 

 

“That's the best outfit ever...

Have I only been gone two days? Are you sure? It seems so much longer...”

 

 

“Well... there were two sleeps...

Maybe it's been more than two days?”

I shrug, take my cock in hand.

“You were saying..? Something about filthy desires.”

 

 

“Mmm... my filthy desires are right there... stroking themselves...”

 

 

I sit down, throw a leg over the arm-rest, place my hand behind my head.

“You don’t say... what else do your filthy desires like to do? Requests may be possible...”

 

 

“Oooh, posing... my arm is starting to hurt a tiny bit less...

Would my filthy desires deign to stroke themselves? Stroke that magnificent flawless smooth skin?”

 

 

I begin to stroke my chest, running my fingers over my nipples.

“You mean... just innocently stroking skin?”

 

 

“James Moriarty, you haven’t done anything innocently since you left your mother’s womb.”

 

 

I look furious, stops stroking.

“How *dare* you accuse me of a non-innocent agenda! I’d like to formally complain to your superior.”

 

 

“My superior is a bit busy at the moment... can I take a message?”

 

 

“Oh? Too busy to speak with an innocent gentleman accused of something *tawdry*?”

I lick my fingers, move my hands down my chest.

 

 

“Much too busy...

Turn around for me, Jim... let me see that gorgeous arse...”

 

 

“Well... you let me know the moment he has an opening,” I huff

I turn in the chair to face the back, kneeling on the seat, sinuously move against the chair, rubbing against the back.

Then I turn my head towards you, narrow my eyes.

“You will tell him, won’t you. I *won’t* stand by while my reputation is sullied by a deviant.”

 

 

I snort, start coughing.

“Oh he’s got an opening... a really amazing opening I can spot right now... but I think it will be impossible to slot you in...”

 

 

I slowly move my hand to my left cheek, grasp it, pull open slightly.

“So I just have to sit here while you paint me with a perverse brush, and make me out to be indecent, a man of low morals? I *never*! I'd like your name please, Sir - for the official complaint."

 

 

I reach for my packet of cigarettes and lighter.

“I’m so terribly sorry; there is no way I can get hold of him, no matter how much I want to...

He’s very hard... to pin down.”

 

 

I slowly move my hand to my right cheek, grasp it and pull open slightly, push my arse out just a little.

“Oh, really. I don't see you trying very *hard* at all. I certainly hope you receive some kind of censure for this vulgar behaviour.”

 

 

“Hmmm... well, if you insist...”

I take a draught, blow out smoke through the steam from the bath.

“I may see a way in which someone might be able to slip in…”

 

 

I move a hand to my cock, stroke devastatingly slowly, thrusting my hips forward.

“I’m listening...”

 

 

“... Nope, sorry. There's just no way he can fit anyone in but me in the coming few years.”

 

 

“*What!* But you said... oh, this is ridiculous. Surely *something* can be done...”

I turn back towards the laptop, holding my shaft with one hand and making lazy circles with my fingers on the head of my cock.

“Are you listening to me?”

 

 

“I am indeed. But I'm afraid it's out of my hands. Believe me, I wish it weren't.”

 

 

“I insist on waiting until my issue is dealt with. I’ll just find some way to occupy myself.”

I let my finger slide delicately over the slit in the head of my cock, rubbing pre-cum.

“And you still haven’t told me your name.”

 

 

I lick my lips, touch myself underwater.

“My name is Sebastian, good Sir. And you are?”

 

 

“Oh, terribly sorry - Alexander Wood. That's *Alexander*, not Alex.

Well, Sebastian - if you could see what could be done, I'd be ever so grateful.”

I lick my palm lasciviously and begin to stroke myself.

“I fully intend to see this through to the end and have you punished.”

 

 

“Well, Mr Wood, I would love to say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I'm afraid under the circumstances I just can't quite.

Might I enquire as to what punishment you'd have my Boss inflict upon me to feel justified?”

 

 

I turn in my chair, sit on my knees and spread my thighs.

“You may *not*. You have behaved abominably, and shall suffer the consequences, I'm afraid.”

I arch my back, resume stroking.

“But this can be turned around, Sebastian - if you give me a helping hand.”

 

 

“Pray tell me how I could make up for my uncouthness?”

 

 

“Well... you could help me pass the time, I suppose,” I sulk

“Talk to me... or show me something... but it's got to be classy.”

 

 

"Oh, you won't ever get anyfin but the creme de la creme with me, sir. Top-notch. Dog's bollocks. Real class." I state in a broad Cockney accent.

 

 

I tilt my head and give you my best unimpressed look. Which must appear in rather stark contrast to what the rest of me is doing.

"You're not showing me anything... or telling me anything, except some claptrap which is obviously a falsehood!" I sigh, and wave my hand.

"So if you're not going to entertain me, then clear off."

 

 

"Oh no no, I do apologize..."

I rise up in the bath, showing you my wet erection, stroking it.

"Is this at all to your liking, Mr Wood?”

 

 

I put my finger to my lips, consider.

"Yes, this I approve of. Pray, continue."

I begin to stroke myself harder, and my breathing quickens.

"The height of elegance. *Very* good."

 

 

"I assure you the specimen you see before you is the result of centuries of breeding," I say in my posh voice. "One simply cannot beat a good pedigree..." I lick my finger elaborately and put it in my mouth, then stroke it up my cock.

 

 

I snort, accidentally breaking character.

"Oh! Terribly sorry. Allergies," I say apologetically. "Breeding, you say! And a good pedigree? Well! That's something else *entirely*..." I feel my eyes flash. "Why don't you show me how someone of *good pedigree* strokes his own cock good and hard... *Sebastian*..."

I stare hard at you as I stroke myself faster. My mouth opens slightly, and my breathing becomes louder.

 

 

I look hungrily at the tablet - hmmm...

I get out of the bath, dry my hand, and carry it into the bedroom.

“Let’s continue our conversation somewhere less slippery... it wouldn’t do for me to fall and break my skull and be found dead with a massive erection - mama and papa would never live down the embarrassment.”

I throw down some towels on the bed and hop on top of them, not moving my eyes off you for a second.

“Right, where were we...”

My cock strains towards the screen, and I start stroking slowly.

“Good and hard, you said? Why don’t you show me how it’s done...”

 

 

I lean my head back against my chair, eyeing you hungrily.

"Maybe I'll just move to the bedroom, too... unless you have a thing for me wanking at my desk... *do you*, Sebastian?" I ask breathily. "Do you have a thing for me wanking at my desk... when I'm supposed to be working and you're distracting me with your big, hard cock?"

 

 

“I have a thing for sitting on my knees under your desk, sucking your gorgeous cock... but if I can’t, then seeing you wank at your desk is the next best thing. But seeing you in the bedroom, luxuriously stretched out on the bed, might be even better...

Yes, go to the bedroom, if you would be so kind...”

 

 

"Oh, that's interesting... I have a thing for a hot soldier under my desk, sucking my gorgeous cock...

or spread out my desk, being fucked by my gorgeous cock... oh, *Jesus*..." I groan. "Give me a second..."

Ruefully, I remove my hand from myself long enough to hop from the chair, snatch up the laptop and walk naked towards the bedroom.

"Don't you *dare* stop," I warn. "I'm watching every stroke, and will do my best not to fall down the stairs as I pass... oh... yes, *harder*..."

I bump into a wall and don't take my eyes from the screen.

 

 

“Fuck... I love being thrown over your desk and fucked hard,” I pant, as I keep stroking - harder, at your insistence. “Don’t say things like that if you don’t want me to come before you...”

 

 

"*Do not* come," I growl. "I want to see you lose it when *I* come..."

I make a beeline to the bed and throw the laptop down on the mattress. Once again I'm on my knees, stroking myself, this time leaning against the headboard. I know you said 'luxuriously stretched out' but anything that feels like a stage is the epitome of hotness to me... I lick my lips, let out a small moan, and stare you down.

 

 

“I won’t... I wouldn’t...”

I’m swallowing like mad, trying to control myself. God you look hot...

“Don’t... god, don’t. You’re so fucking hot... please, stroke yourself -“ I let out a desperate moan. I’m going to be in pieces before this is over, aren’t I...

 

 

I chuckle, and stroke harder. “Like this?”

I raise an arm and drape it against the headboard over my head. I throw you a smouldering look and let my lips fall open.

I’m performing like an online fuckboy, and I can tell it’s really turning you on and making it that much harder (heh) to not come... ah, I do so love my little games...

I start thrusting my hips towards the camera as I stroke myself and moan.

 

 

"Oh, fuck - god - fucking hell, Jim - you're so incredibly fucking hot - I can't - I can't move my hand or I'll come - you're so hot - I wish I was there, god..."

I'm babbling. Not a lot of blood is left to facilitate the running of my brain.

God, you're hot. That look. That open mouth. Those thrusts. That moan...

 

 

I give you a feral stare as I thrust faster and stroke harder. My breath is coming hard and quick, I’m feeling a sheen of perspiration. (Fuck, I’m going to have to shower again!)

“Do - not - even - think - about - it - ” I warn, and flick my tongue out at you.

 

 

I'm not. I'm not! I don't disobey you - never -

Oh fuckkkkk...

I'm shivering with the effort of not touching my cock, not rubbing it, because I'd come all over mini-Jim in the little black box... and we can't do that... not yet...

"Oh god yes Jim - fuck you look amazing -"

 

 

“I know, honey... so do you,” I purr. “That *rock-hard* soldier cock of yours, standing at attention... so longing to be strrrroked...” I pout. “And sucked and plunged into a willing body...”

A smile plays on my lips.

“Do you want to plunge it into my willing body? I’m so hot for you, Tiger...”

My eyes close and I pant as I lean against the headboard.

 

 

"God, yes - "

If there were any chance of me getting on a plane right now and being in London in an hour or two I'd be out of here like a flash. This is fucking torture - I'm not sure if it wouldn't be better if I couldn't talk to you at all.

"Jim, the moment I'm back, you better not be wearing anything expensive, because it's going to end up in tatters on the floor..."

 

 

“If - you - rip through - anything expensive - *you* will be in tatters on the floor... and I’ll still expect you to *fuck me*,” I groan. “Should I just be lying indolently in bed for you all day, smoking and drinking martinis... like some tramp for you to mount?” I turn slightly so you can admire my arse, muscles tensing as I thrust. I seize the headboard, moan and press my face against the wood. “Oh, *fuck*...”

 

 

"Fuck - Jim - oh god, Jim, please - fuck, you're so hot -"

I seem to be incapable of anything but stating the obvious over and over. My hand is grasping the bottom of my cock, carefully not moving at all, my heart is racing, my mouth is dry.

My eyes must be at risk of dropping from their sockets; I'm watching you so intensely. I don't think I've ever seen a hotter sight in my life than Jim Moriarty posing and pouting like some tart in a boudoir.

"Please - please come for me - please..."

There's only one man in the world who can reduce me to begging. Apparently he can do it while he's on the other side of the world as well.

 

 

I bite my lip and suck in my breath. I look at the screen with half-closed eyes.

"*Mmm*, Sebastian... I can't wait to feel you on top of me tomorrow..." I slide down the headboard, and fall against the pillows.

Moaning loudly, I thrust into my hand hard and fast.

"Oh...*Tiger*..." I cry out, throwing my head back. "Fucking - want - you -"

My gaze whips to the screen. "Come as soon as I'm done..." I whisper.

 

 

Yes-

Oh god yes-

Oh fuck...

I can't see anything but your hand moving on your cock, so skilled and practised, I know exactly how that cock is feeling now - I can imagine the sensation as it hardens just that bit more just before the climax - oh Jim -

"Oh god Jim please - yes - fuck, you're so beautiful, god Jim - "

 

 

"So - hot - Tiger..." I breathe, as I feel the first shivery tremors moving through me.

I thrust spectacularly into my hand, my hips like pistons.

"Oh *FUCK* me," I groan and fall to the side as I reach the home stretch. "*Tiger*..."

Semen spurts out against my hand and stomach, and I lie gasping in a heap.

My eyes fly open to watch you. "Come for me, Sebastian..." I whisper.

 

 

"YES - oh god yes Jim you're so fucking hot - Jim - fuck, you're spectacular - I'm going to fuck you raw when I'm back - Jim - JIM-"

My groan sounds inhuman even to my own ears, as I shoot into my hand time in spurts, panting, shivering with the incredible tension building up and finally releasing.

I find myself leaning on one arm, the other hand holding my cock, seed spilling from my hand onto the bed, my wet hair sticking to my forehead, trembling.

"Fucking hell, Jim... I hope you didn't have a client in your office?"

 

 

I blink at the screen. "Oh, *now* you're concerned? I *told* you I had work to do... now there's a traumatized client in the corner I have to deal with... "

I regard my hand. "I seem to have made a mess... and I'm dreadfully behind now, Tiger... I do *hope* you're happy..."

I roll onto my stomach, feeling a glint in my eye. "You better make it up to me tomorrow..." My voice is a dangerous purr.

 

 

“I'm very happy, thank you, Mr Wood... it was an unexpected delight." I grin, picking the towels off the bed to clean myself, throwing them on the floor.

"I look forward to making your further acquaintance tomorrow."

 

 

I arch an eyebrow. "Of course it was... I'm a delight. And tomorrow your arse can get further acquainted with my cock." I crawl to the laptop. "Time to shower, no thanks to you! Wood *out*." I log off Skype, and pad to the bathroom.

 

 

I flop onto the bed. Bloody hell. I want you all the time anyway, but having you perform like that - that is definitely going into the wank bank. I should have pressed record...

I wonder if I could get you to do it when I’m there... tie me up and perform until I’m insensate with lust, and then unleash me...

I feel my cock already stirring again at the thought. Not yet, my friend... tomorrow...

I have a quick shower to rinse off the fresh sweat and wash my hair, then fall into a very satisfied sleep.

 

 

In the shower, I close my eyes and raise my face to the hot water. I sigh, feeling pleasure and relaxation pool through me.

I think back to the video call. Whatever possessed me to perform for you like that? *I* should be sitting back and watching you... but there's a look you get in your eyes that sometimes I need to see. Adoration and worship, like nothing under the sun is hotter or more beautiful, more magnificent. *Recognizing* this means you get the occasional treat. You'll make it up to me tomorrow... but there was something about you fucking me raw... Another occasional treat. Hmm... Am I doling out too many treats??

I think back over the last few months...we've fucked *so much*, it's all kind of a blur. I suppose there has been *some* loosening of my rigid rules... maybe I need to go back to being a disciplinarian.

I have a day to consider this - when you return, I'll make sure everything is well in hand or I'll have an unruly Tiger in the house, climbing all over the furniture and licking my face. Ignoring how my stomach seems to flutter in response, I turn off the water. Must be something I ate. I'll drink some ginger ale and get back to work. I towel myself off and push thoughts out of my head of a Tiger in my lap nuzzling my cheek.