Chapter Text
It has always been the same color for you, in all the years you’ve lived. Black represents everything around you, even the air you breathe. You were suffocating, slowly, as you tried your best to blend in with darkness. Passing through alleys at midnight was not your ideal choice for a moonlight walk. But what other choice do you have, for this is the fastest way to get home from your job. Cold winds were caressing your cheeks and it was awfully quiet; though you didn’t seem to care, because you enjoy absolute silence. Especially on days like today, with you messing up everything you do. Madame Jacqueline yelled at you from the top of her lungs, about how incompetent you were, in the “serving a client” expertise. The others were just standing there in horror as the Madame slapped you hard, cursing your very existence along with how you are ruining her business and that she should just have you killed. You didn’t mind that, not at all. In fact, you would even thank Madame Jacqueline. “Death is salvation,” you thought to yourself as you quicken your pace to your apartment.
The door unlocked. Tossing your heels on the floor, you tried to find the light switch and flipped it on. As your eyes were adjusting to the over-bearing light, you slowly took your jacket off. That action was followed by your crop top, revealing the small cleavage between your voluptuous swells. The next victim on your list would be your ripped denims, along with its best friend, black lace lingerie which barely covers your buttocks. Your feet were reaching the refrigerator when your whole body becomes bare as Eden. After popping a bottle of beer, you flopped down onto your couch and turned the telly on. There was not much on, but you couldn’t care less. Every show was the same; every piece of news was the same. When the bottle was half-empty, you decided to change your form of entertainment for the night. You took your laptop into your hands and turned it on. You opened your browser, then a bookmarked website. Your heart rate was starting to rise as the page loads. You were beginning to feel nervous, because if anybody comes through the door at this exact moment, your stark-naked curves would not be your first concern. Finally, your browser shows what you were waiting for: “The Science of Deduction” – by Sherlock Holmes.
Exactly a month has passed, from when you first stumbled onto his blog, and you still find it hard to believe that an “Analysis of 243 Types of Tobacco Ash” entry could catch your eyes. Ever since you saw those smoky waves coming out of Madame Jacqueline’s lips, you were entranced. You find something trapped between existence and non-existence so fascinating that you can’t help but watch, with amusement in your eyes. Of course, it developed into a habit, and then changed into a permanent interest. This blog entry just happened to be a part of it, and yet, you can’t seem to stop reading. People have called you names before: bitch, slut, whore, whatever comes to their heads first; but there was something they didn’t notice about you. You were a psychopath, in your own way. You realized this when your parents passed away. Even though you cried in front of your less-than-pleasant relatives, you felt absolutely nothing. At your younger age, you watched a lot of movies, and you would understand those feelings perfectly. You could perform them even more perfectly; however, you can never keep any kinds of emotion for long. There was something wrong with you, that was your first thought. As time passes, you gradually accepted your flaws and you adjusted. Still, you can never feel whole as a human being. It troubles you, a bit.
You were scrolling down to re-read the blog entry again, when your phone rings, blasting your eardrums. You picked it up and the name “Madame Jacqueline” appeared. You pressed the little green button.
“Yes?”
…
“But I thought you kicked me out for the night.”
…
“I wasn’t being impolite; he was the rude one, faking health records.”
…
“No, I will not apologize. I did nothing wrong.”
…
“Now, now, Madame, you can’t possibly replace any of your girls. And new clients will always come, so why fussing too much over this?”
…
“Yes, yes. I’ll even give you my whole share of ‘payment’ if you stop pestering.”
…
“I’m sorry for the sass. But why do you need me in? Surely, tonight’s clients aren’t picky.”
…
“Someone asked for me personally? Do you have a name?”
“Moriarty.”
Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you heard the name of your client. Shivers started running down your spine, as fear spread through your whole body. You almost forgot the feelings that man brought along with only his last name. But the worst will come after spending a night with him… He has been neglecting his high class brothel for some other businesses all this while and now he’s back in town. You were silent for seconds before you spoke up again, “I’ll be right there.” You hung up the phone right after, and started to prepare yourself for any scenarios. You took a quick shower, dried your hair, and styled it before you put your sleek low back dress, stockings on. You knew exactly what Jim Moriarty prefers. Before you leave your flat, you put on classy make-up, checked everything twice, and put on a trench coat. The door opened. Your living room turned black, leaving only the light from your laptop, still with “Analysis of 243 Types of Tobacco Ash” on.
You stepped out of your apartment in a hurry and almost tripped on your Louboutin. You practically almost jumped in front of a cab instead of catching one like everyone else, thanks to your own bundle of nerves. As you sat in the taxi, you saw a friendly-looking cabbie. Apparently, he was a family’s man, provided you saw a picture of his children/grandchildren near the radio station. You figured it was an ideal ice breaker, so you spoke up.
“Good evening, are those your children?”
“Well, yes, thanks for noticing, miss. It’s a bit weird that you asked, though.”
“How so?”
“You see, people always assume that they’re my grandchildren.”
“I see. I chose my words wisely, then,” you smiled.
“May I ask where you’re going, miss?”
You gave him the address, while silently thanking him for not asking why you were out so late. You were leaning your head against the window as you admired the street lights. London certainly has its charm increased when night falls. It took about 10 minutes to arrive. While getting out of the cab, you asked for his name.
“It’s Jeff. Jeff Hope, miss.”
“Thanks, Jeff. Here, have a coffee on me.”
You paid him a little more than what he expected; he thanked you and started driving. You turned around to walk into the building. The floor was made of marble, which makes your heels bring out a delightful sound. You stood and waited, until you stepped into the elevator, pushing the 11th button. The elevator started moving and your stomach began to form knots. You were a little more than tense; your thoughts were all jumbled up. Oddly, you found these feelings very interesting and wondered if they’d last. The elevator stopped and woke you from your train of thoughts. You now find yourself standing on a long blood red carpet, with only one room ahead. You inhaled, and exhaled before taking off your trench coat and started walking towards that room. Before you reach the door, you scanned the area and you found that it’s not locked. Letting out a sigh, you decided to push the door open. The first thing you saw was a room filled with black, red and white. Then, your eyes swiftly moved to his silhouette. He was sitting in the dark with a glass of scotch in his hands, thinking, just like last time. You watched him, but not too long, as you let your voice out.
“Good evening, Sir.”
“Kitten~” he sang that word out loud and turned to look at you. You could almost see the smirk on his face, despite darkness surrounding him. He looks devilishly handsome as always; still wearing Westwood, you assumed. After all, that is his trademark. “The Devil Wears Westwood,” your own thought humoured yourself. You tried to keep a chuckle inside, before speaking out loud again.
“It has been an honour to have you chosen me as your entertainment for the night. What could I do for you, Sir?”
“Hmmm~ still an obedient one, aren’t you?”
“Only if you desire that of me, Sir.” your lips curved upward slightly.
“Close the door.” he spoke with a soft Irish accent, which made you shiver in both bliss and terror.
You did as you were told, just to turn around and find yourself being injected with something. You jumped a bit at the sensation of the needle on your skin. It hurt, but it tickled.
“Hello, Sebastian.” you spoke with a grin on your face. He stayed silent, until Moriarty told him to reply.
“Hello to you, too.”
And then, you started quivering under your dress. The candles in the room were lit by Sebastian, making your visions clearer. You glanced at Sebastian while he was lighting something else, apart from the candles; it has a sweet scent to it. Suddenly, your body feels so…very… hot. You looked at Jim Moriarty again, and saw him looking at you with a strange glint in his deep black orbs. Your knees were giving up on you. You collapsed on the floor while still feeling awake, but your head has this odd dizziness. Jim put his glass down and started walking towards you, humming in his steps.
“How do you feel, kitten?” he is looking down at you, expecting.
“It feels… hot.” Through your hoarse voice, you could almost feel your tongue wanting something…needing something. Little did you know, you were looking at him with such glistening hunger in your eyes. He saw right through them. A thought crept into the back of his mind; that you were adorable.
“Sebastian~”
“Yes, boss?”
“Would you carry this little kitten to the bed and prepare her for me?”
“Okay, boss.”
You felt yourself being lifted, being carried, as you dug your nails into Sebastian’s chest. You started whimpering a bit when you feel sensations travelling down between your thighs. You didn’t mind being drugged, for it also happened the first time you’re with Jim Moriarty. Besides, if drugs could give you some normal human emotions, then who were you to complain? Sebastian laid you down and your back feels softness against it; the feeling was soothing. Your eyes were close when you felt fingers against your skin. You turned your half-lidded eyes to the direction of Sebastian caressing your thighs. You smiled into the touch, but you knew Moriarty wouldn’t want things to be so gentle. No, he wants you to be ragged. He wants to see you desperate for his touch. Yes, he wants you to beg. Without a warning, you felt Sebastian turned your body, so that you’re lying face down. He abruptly ripped your dress in half; that harsh sound turned him on. Moriarty also felt the same way, as he was watching them both very carefully. He also noticed you were wearing a rather lewd pair of stockings, with no kinds of lingerie on. He was immensely pleased.
Sebastian was not feeling patient; because he was a man, he also had needs. He lifted your hips up high, making your back arch, while your face is still buried in the sheets. He would have admired the view a bit longer, but he was given a task and he doesn’t like failing. His hands were caressing your thighs as he began to move his face closer to your pink curtains. He remembers how you reacted the first time, when he accidentally blew a breath of air into your moist lady part, and he loved it. You started to shift a bit when you felt a light, cool breeze making its way to your entrance. “…mmm…” a small sound escaped your throat, soft enough to make them curious and loud enough to drive them wild. Sebastian knew he could not hold on much longer without losing his control, so he started kissing your folds and teasing your clit. His rough lips were no amateur, even though you were under influences of the drugs; you felt your legs trembling at his touch, your hips swaying up and down asking for more. He immediately knew what you wanted and slid his tongue inside so quickly you could scream, but the only sound escaping your lips is a wheezy moan.
Jim Moriarty’s eyes were on you, he was focusing, or at least he was trying to. There was something wrong with him today. Maybe he ate a bad salmon; maybe he drank too much wine. If it were the salmon, God saves the chef. But that uncomfortable feeling was not in his stomach, it was in his chest. On one hand, he enjoys seeing you being toyed with. On the other hand, he did not like what Sebastian was doing with you. It felt bizarre to him, because this is not the first time he asked of Sebastian something like this. So why, why couldn’t he enjoy watching you fully, before he breaks you under his skin? It wasn’t until you let out a come so violently that he snapped out of his own train of thoughts. He only saw you came for the first time tonight, and he was eager. He wanted to dominate you against the wall. He wanted to shove his manhood deep inside you. He wanted you to scream his name over and over until you pass out from your own orgasm. He wanted to brand you with his name on your pale flesh.
Sebastian was gasping for air when Jim came closer and told him to move aside. Sebastian found it weird that his boss would get so horny so soon, but he didn’t raise any questions. He moved away from your still throbbing velvet to leave the room. As soon as the door was closed, Moriarty sat down on the bed and commanded you to turn over. You fulfilled his request. You were facing him, as he ordered you to remove his clothes. Your fingers started to trace down all of his clothes’ openings in order to complete his demands efficiently. His favourite Westwood started disappearing one by one, until his whole body was revealed to you. You lied down again; your legs were spreading wide as your fingernails dug into your own skin. You were inviting him in, knowing that he would like it.
And he did. Jim wasted no time, but he didn’t want to rush and give you what you wanted right away. There is so much fun in teasing you and torturing you. He could never pass up on that offer. You were looking at him with your lips in anticipation of whatever comes your way. Instead, you find your swollen bounty being fondled by his freezing hand. It made you shutter. He noticed that change in your body language and he took advantage of it. His other hand was now at your vulva, sliding up and down, sometimes round and round in a circular motion. Pleasure was flooding over you as you let out continuous moans. He seems to realize that he likes those waves of sounds. He likes your voice. With this sudden realization, he pushed his fingers right into you. You gasped, surprised by the sudden enter. He was at a loss, he was engrossed in you. He began to quicken the pace, while laying his lips on yours, making you breathless. Your back arched again, as you came for the second time tonight, with muffled sobs stuck in your throat. He let go of your lips; before you could pass out, he rammed his cock deep inside you. You let out a loud cry. The sudden impact was too much for you at that point, but you loved it nonetheless. He knows your body so well. He was very confident despite having only slept with you once before. He was a genius; and he was sure that your body matches his perfectly. He lifted you up to sit on his lap. He wanted to go even deeper. He wanted to feel his head tearing your womb apart. Just the thought of it made him harder. He started his thrust; he has made up a rhythm of speed for your sensual pleasure as well as his own. He knew you were stubborn; he knew you wouldn’t say his name that soon. He had to force his name out of you. A grin made its way onto his face as the game begins.
“Oh, oh oh!!!” it was your third come tonight, but it wasn’t over yet…
“Hah… Hah… Ah~!” fifth time now, it seems.
“Guh… Gah… Umph!” more, he wanted more.
His lips have now travelled all over your body leaving territorial marks everywhere, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to make sure that your body remembers his so clearly that you’d play with yourself if he wasn’t around. And he wasn’t going to stop, not yet.
“Ah… Oh… Ah… M…”
“What…was that, kitten?”
“M-Moriarty…”
“I’m sorry…hm…I can’t quite hear you~”
“Moriarty.”
“Louder.”
“Hah… Jim! I-I’m…”
“Hphn!”
You came for the last time tonight, as Jim made a few more thrusts then filled you completely. Your mind was numb, your body was numb, and you passed out from the waves of your own orgasm. He was still holding you in his arms, while you laid your chin on his shoulder. He let out a sigh of relief as he has satisfied his needs. But there’s more. He feels something else, something entirely different yet the same. He slid his member out of you and laid you on the bed. Usually, he would always get up this instance, take a shower and kick the harlot out. When he’s with you, however, he’s not the same person that he knows. He pulled the sheets up to cover your body and wrapped his arms around you. He was watching your sleeping face, and he was enjoying every second of it. It’s a very strange thing for him to do. He couldn’t quite understand his actions towards you. You shifted in your sleep, burying your face into his chest. Your warmth and steady breathing was putting him to sleep. He couldn’t fight back his drowsiness anymore. His last thought was of his adorable little kitten.