Smarter than you.

The scream made Sherlock's eyes open wide, he could feel Jim tensing around him and for the first time the thought that the other man could be a virgin did cross his mind.
It made sense considering how fearful he had been.
It seemed preposterous as well though.

He groaned when he felt the nails dig in his wrist.
The pain shotting through his senses and making him vindictive.
"Fuck," he muttered, gripping the other's hips harder as he started thrusting.

He was merciless.
He pulled himself almost all the way out and then in, fast and steady, enjoying just how tight Jim felt around him.

Jim screamed out a few more times as Sherlock pounded in with extraordinary force. His nails still digging through the detective's skin, marking it with scratches, desperately trying to do anything to make this pain stop. But Sherlock only increased his pace even more and Jim had forced himself to stop screaming and had now turned to hissing, soon switching to moaning.

His hand finally let go of Sherlock's wrist and moved over to his own erection. He gave it a few jerks and found himself feeling less painful as he did. He decided to carry on and suddenly he felt he could enjoy this a lot more. He also felt he wasn't able to hold long, his orgasm was already building up.

Sherlock felt himself starting to shake, the long thrusts were making him needy, and he wrapped his arm around Jim's waist, pulling their bodies closer and changing his angle.
His hips started moving in a more circular way, sensual, enjoying the way their bodies were attached to one another.

Eventually, he swatted Jim's hand away from his erection, "Don't," he muttered, wanting to make this a bit longer.
He took the other's hands, pinning them to the bars and kept moving his hips, quickly becoming desperate in the heat of pleasure.

Jim was surprised by Sherlock swatting away his hand, just as it was the only way to relief himself from the pain. But Sherlock seemed to have lost all control and as he pinned Jim's hand, the other decided do let go of everything as well.

Soon Jim found the pain starting to exchange for waves of pleasure. "Ohh.. Hmm. Fuck.. Yes." Were the only things he was able to say, scream, moan. He had never felt anything like it and at this point, he didn't want things to end either.

He was panting, sweating and shaking every time Sherlock hit a sensitive point again. Unaware Jim had started to rock back and forth at the same time as Sherlock, welcoming his thrusts and making them even more enjoyable.

Sherlock could tell the other was enjoying himself when he started pushing his hips back to meet his thrusts, he buried his face in the back of his neck and moaned softly in his ear. "You are mine, Jim... you can't fight that any more..." he whispered, before he picked up an even harder rhythm.

Eventually he let go of the other's hands and moved to wrap his fingers around Jim's arousal, pumping it in time with his thrusts, enjoying every sound the other man was making.

Jim thought it wasn't even possible for Sherlock to go even faster then he already was. But as he started to move back on the detective, the thrusts arrived at a stronger force and jim found himself moaning with every move Sherlock made.

He wanted to answer Sherlock when he said he was his, but all that came out was "oh fuck yes, Sherlock." And when Sherlock's hand grasped around his throbbing cock he could no longer hold it together anymore.

Every muscle inside him tensed up and sparks of pleasure shot through his body, making his knees go weak, making him shiver. "Sherlock.." He moaned real loud as he could feel himself releasing in the other's hand and probably making a mess on the floor. Jim was left panting and he was exhausted, he could easily collapse here and now.

Sherlock moaned helplessly when he felt Jim's insides clench around him, his arms moving quickly to keep the other man up, he needed just a few-
He groaned, curling on the other's body as his orgasm envelopped him completely.

His body shook in pleasure, sparks dancing in his vision and for a moment he thought he was going to collapse.
He gripped Jim's body, he took in his scent and panted until he got at least part of his rationality back.

"Come, sit on the bed," he mumbled, pulling himself out of Jim, and holding him up as they moved towards the bed.

Jim held onto the bars, but without Sherlock's support he would have definitively collapsed onto the cold concrete floor. He was left panting and his senses one by one started to come back. He still moaned though when he felt Sherlock having his orgasm.

For a few moments he felt Sherlock resting on his back, the warmth of his breathing swiftly dancing over his sweaty back. But soon he felt Sherlock moving away, slipping out of his, leaving him with a burning feeling of both agony and pleasure.

Jim moved along, he had to rely on Sherlock for getting to the bed though. He was limping and figured he might not be able to properly walk for a bit now. As soon as he reached the bed, he let himself fall, chest first. With a moan of satisfaction he closed his eyes.

"Sherlock." He mumbled. "It was amazing."

Sherlock looked at him as he collapsed on the bed, half naked and disheveled, Jim was even sexier than before.
He shook his head, taking off the condom and throwing it into the bin.
He had to stop thinking about Jim, especially now that he had had him.

He had a feeling it wasn't going to be that simple though.

He couldn't help laughing softly at Jim's words, it was true for him too, but he decided not to admit it just yet. "You could have punched me, you could have killed me and you could have run away, instead you let me fuck you... it's undeniably insane even for you, James Moriarty," he said as he pulled up his trousers and tucked himself in.

It wasn't until Sherlock mentioned escaping, the imagine of the key in his pocket came to Jim's mind. Sherlock had managed to shut down every part of Jim's brain and it somewhat scared him.

"You left me little choice." Jim replied, still with eyes closed. He could even barely move, his body needed to recuperate after what Sherlock did to it.

Sherlock looked at him surprised at the reply, "I gave you a lot of choices," he protested, but then shook his head, not really willing to argue. He was in a strange mood, he knew he would end up being too soft, and he couldn't afford to do that with Jim.

"I will leave you to rest," he said then, realizing Jim seemed to be exhausted. He felt he needed to clear his head, too.
"I'll visit tomorrow..."

Jim tried to protest, but he just gave up. Sherlock might have give him a few options to begin with, but once his mind was set on sex, Jim couldn't to anything but obey to the detectives, and his own, needs.

His eyes widened drastically as Sherlock mentioned he would leave. Jim had just been an object to please his needs?

"What?" Jim said, lifting his head from the bed. "No. No Sherlock don't leave."

Sherlock looked back when he heard the other's voice, his eyes moving on him quickly, taking in every detail that could tell him what Jim was feeling in that moment.
He was clearlly annoyed, a bit scared, but why?
They had sex, yes, but Jim was his prisoner, he was not supposed to want him to stay for cuddles now, was he?
Technically he shouldn't have wanted sex either though.

"What do you suppose I do?" he asked, scoffing. "You are clearly exhausted, you aren't exactly of much use... or are you going to try to kill me now?" he teased him dryly.

you aren't exactly of much use.

Jim felt his whole world tremble down. He had been used, he was nothing more then a sex object to Sherlock. Sherlock had completely powered over him, took his virginity, took the last thing he had. Jim felt himself starting to shake. He had been used. He felt dirty and ashamed of himself right there. Anger burned in his chest.

"You." He hissed as he removed himself of the mattress. Adrenaline had shut the feeling of being exhausted out for a few moment and Jim run over to Sherlock, pushing him hard against the steel bars. What followed was Jim punching Sherlock in the face. "You filthy bastard." He yelled.

The pain in his backside reminded him him just how stupid he had been.

Violence he could deal with.
It was direct, straight forward, and it never really lied.
It was clear Jim was angry, the man had clearly expected Sherlock to be more caring. It was preposterous, really, considering the situation they were in, but Sherlock felt a bit guilty anyway.

It didn't last long as Jim attacked him, the punch to his face making his lip bleed right away.
"Mm, now I recognize you," he muttered with a smirk, wiping the blood from his face.

"How does it feel to get fucked by your enemy, Jim? How does it feel to moan and beg for someone else?" he taunted him, feeling utterly insane, for some reason he wanted Jim to hit him.

Jim punched Sherlock at least two more time. It released him from the anger he had just felt.
The detective's words were only provoking him more, but Jim fight off the impulse to beat this man up completely.

"You made me beg." He hissed. "You knew exactly how and where to touch me to get me where you wanted me." His eyes were narrowed as he could just feel a new wave of anger coming up.

"You're sick. Insane." He shouted, grabbing Sherlock by his shirt and slamming his back against the bars a few times, desperately trying to make Sherlock hurt as much as he had been hurt.

Sherlock just smirked, his eyes sparkling softly as they saw the anger unravel on the other's face, he knew it meant he had got to the man, it was satisfying in a way the detective had never felt.
He should have probably questioned this new feeling, but at the moment he was too busy observing Jim, taking in the punches and the pain.

He reacted then, throwing back a punch to the other's jaw, laughing at the adrenaline that crawled up his spine.
"I wouldn't say I knew it before, but I admit it was surprisingly easy to find out... it seems I was made to know all your secrets, Jim," he teased him, stretching his shoulders.

"Pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?" he added amused. "What is it Jim? Are you hurt? I know you liked it, I can tell by the way you moaned my name."

Jim felt his body bouncing back as Sherlock's fist hit his jaw. For a moment he just stood there, looking down while softly rubbing the surface that got hit. He was shaking with anger. How did he not see this coming?

Sherlock's words were provoking him even more. But violence wasn't going to save this situation either. Nothing could save this situation anymore. What's done is done.

"Shut up." He hissed towards the detective. "Just shut up and GO." He yelled. A moment ago he would have wanted Sherlock here, but now he knew he could barely stand being in the same room. He was hurt, hurt by a stranger who also managed to outsmart him. His whole pride was broken.

Sherlock frowned when Jim shouted at him, he did not like that one bit and, finally, anger started cursing in his veins.
He moved towards him menacingly, grabbing the other's open shirt in a rough grip and dragging him closer.
"Don't think you can tell me what to do, Jim," he whispered, their faces a few centimeters apart. "You cannot order me around."

He slowly let go of the other's collar, his nail tracing down Jim's chest where his shirt parted, a long red mark stopping where his pubes started. "Don't act so bloody precious. I could have you again right now if I wanted to, I could bend you over that bed and fuck you all over again... you haven't got a choice, it's my decision..." he said in a low sensual whisper.

Jim looked up into Sherlock's eyes as he got dragged closer. He could clearly tell the detective got extremely offended by his commands and Jim felt himself getting a bit of his confidence back. He might have been broken, but Sherlock was slowly trembling down as well.

"I can order you around, in fact I believe I just did." He whispered, but he couldn't say much more as he felt Sherlock's hands touching him again. For a moment everything froze, Sherlock's voice sure was arousing, but Jim knew better this time. He couldn't give in no matter how good a second round could feel. He banned the thought and reminded himself that he was nothing more but a sex toy.

"No." He said loud. "No, I won't allow it. I won't ever let you fuck me again." He said, trying to push Sherlock away from him.

Sherlock's face twitched in a nervous frown when Jim tried to push him away. Instinctively, his hand swang up, grabbing the base of the other's head and pulling him very close, their breathing mingling.
"Don't flatter yourself thinking I need your permission to do what I want," he hissed dangerously, his fingers burying in the other's hair, tugging roughly until his neck was bent and he could whisper in his ear.

"You are in a cage, your cock hanging loose and your ass still stretched and ready for me. You are mine," he hissed lowly, his tone a promise of pain. Sherlock was not a patient man.

Jim's eyes widened drastically as he felt Sherlock's hand pulling his hair. He had no choice but bending his head slightly. Jim bit down his lower lip to avoid making any sound. His mind only set on one thing now: escaping. Not letting Sherlock take advantage of him again and just get out of this place.

He breathing was fast and he shivered in fear and anger just slightly as he took in Sherlock's words. His head shook. "No. I'm not yours. I'll never be yours." His hands moved to Sherlock's chest, nails digging into it as he tried to struggle his way out.

Sherlock groaned when Jim's nails dug in his chest, he felt his skin break, and chills run up his spine.
The grip on the other's hair tightened, but this time he used it to push him away.
"You are behaving like a bloody girl," he snapped with a grimace.

He straightened his clothes, looking at Jim with an annoyed glared. "You keep telling yourself that," he snarled, before he took out the key from his pocket and walked out of the cage.

Jim gasped at the even more tight grip on his hair, but he sighed in relief once he was let go. Almost instinctively he moved away from Sherlock. "Piss off." He muttered as Sherlock insulted him for being a girl.

One part of Jim was relieved Sherlock had gone, but the other had hoped for him to stay. Desperately hoped for Sherlock to care about him. Jim didn't liked the idea of being used. If someone was using people, it would be him, but he would never be used.

Eventually he limped back to his bed, picked up his boxers and pulled them on again. He now knew there were cameras and Sherlock was watching his every move. He glared around the room. Escaping could be an idea. But he had to sleep first, he was exhausted. He rested his bruised cheeks on the hard pillow and closed his eyes, hoping this was just a nightmare.

Sherlock was not able to sleep at all that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, he would get memories of how it felt to have Jim in his arms, how he tasted, how it felt to be inside him.
He had thought he was obsessed by the other man already, but now he realized he was at a whole new level.
How could he manage this?
He had to have him again, but Jim seemed to be so set on rejecting him now, he was starting to think that maybe he couldn't possibly seduce him another time.

When morning came, he knew he just had to see him again.
He walked into the prison cell, an ice pack in his hand, and watched Jim sleep for a while, standing by the closed gate.

When he saw him stir, he walked closer, placing the ice pack on the injury on his cheek.
"Keep it there, so the swelling will go down," he muttered dryly.