Title: Tactile
Fandom/Characters: Sherlock (BBC). Jim/Sherlock
Rating: NC-13
Word Count: 1,745
Summary: Jim had always been a very tactile person
An: Written for the fan_flashworks prompt Doorway.



Five year old Jim was laying on the floor of his parents' flat. Underneath him was his mother's rabbit fur coat. The different squares of fur ranged from dark brown to pale white, but each was soft. The fur was so soft, much softer than his teddy bears or even his favorite pillow. He rubbed his hand over the fur so quickly that it was blur.

It wasn't often that he could lay on the coat, his father said it was meant to be worn not to be rubbed, but now that his father wasn't there he could.

'Jimmy what are you doing?' His mother asked as she came out of the kitchen.

'Nothing and it's Jim, Mom,' Jim said as he looked at his mother. Her long black hair was pulled back and she was smiling down at him. As she moved her yellow dress swirled around her.

She walked over to him and knelt down. Jim caught a whiff of lavender perfume. 'Of course it is. Now get up and get ready for dinner.'

That night after dinner his mother read him a bedtime story and kissed his forehead.

Years later, just before his eighth birthday, Jim stood at his mother's grave. A cold wind made bare trees sway back and forth like dancing skeletons. The sky was grey and a light rain wetted his face. As he looked at the grey stone that marked his mother's grave tears fell from his eyes.

'Stop that right now,' Jim's father said as he gripped his son's shoulder. If it had been from anyone else it would have been a gesture of comfort, but since it was from the elder Moriarty it was a threat. Jim knew if he didn't stop crying his father would be angry and it was never good when he was angry. Jim's father never raised his hand or his voice, but he could still be frightening.

He stopped the tears from flowing. He looked up at his father. The older man looked grim. The combination of his dark suit and pale skin made his head look like the a skull sitting atop a black robe.

'There's no need to cry, she died, that's what people do. It's time to go.' Jim's father said as he lead his son back to a car.

When they got back to their flat, Jim stood in the doorway. Everything felt strange. There was no jazz music to fill the air and even the light blue walls looked dull.

He walked to the couch and collapsed on the lumpy cushions, not caring that his dark suit would be wrinkled. He rubbed his cheek against the brown fabric, it wasn't as soft as his mother's coat, but it would do. He wanted to bury his face in the fur, but he didn't want his father to take it away.

'I hope you're not planning on laying there all day?'

'I'll be up. What's for dinner?'

'Whatever you can make. I'm going out.'

Jim father walked out of the flat leaving Jim alone. As soon as the door clicked shut Jim's tears began to fall. As his body shook with sobs, he clinched his fists and hit the couch again and again. He was angry at his father for being uncaring, angry at his mother for dying, but most of all he was angry at himself for wanting his mother back. He swore that someday he would need no one.

Once he had no more tears to cry he walked over to closet and opened it. He carefully pulled his mother's coat off its hanger and carried it to his room. Once in his room he stripped off his suit like a snake shedding skin and laid the coat on his bed. Some of the fur patches had been worn through by his hands.

He squirmed against the fur, rubbing his entire body against it. As he rubbed his nose against he could smell his mother's perfume. That night he fell asleep surrounded by softness and dreamed of killing his father.

Decades later, a grown Jim walked into his bathroom and took off his suit. The wool of his suit jacket was soft under his fingers. He loved the way expensive fabrics felt against his skin. He had once tried to wear silk pants, but had to change when he realised that the slid of silk against his cock and balls made him hard. A hard-on was the last thing he needed when he was dealing with clients.

He let his suit lay in a heap on a white tile floor.

Once out of his suit he stepped into a very roomy shower and stepped under a warm spray of water. He lathered up and slid his soapy hands over his chest as steam and the sent of soap filled the air.

He heard the bathroom door open and couldn't help but grin. He had a good idea of what was going to happen next and sure enough he felt Sherlock step into the shower and stand behind him. Sherlock might have been a virgin when they first met, but he certainly wasn't one now.

Jim groaned as Sherlock's hands slid down Jim's thighs. As Sherlock's hands moved over to knead Jim's balls, Jim slapped his hands away.

'Nah. Ah. No dirty shower right now. I have to meet with a client soon.'

'I find that hard to believe, you only take showers at the end of the day.'

'Maybe I want to shake things up. You know that life would be insufferable if I was boring.'

Sherlock's lips brushed Jim's shoulder. 'You could never be boring.'

'Aw. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, my love.'

Jim could almost feel Sherlock's eye-roll.

'You know how I feel about pet names.'

'I know, I believe the word you used was infantile. Maybe I just want to be punished?' Jim said as he rolled his hips and brushed his arse against Sherlock's cock.

'When do you have to meet your client?' Sherlock said changing the subject. His hard cock gave him away though.

'Soon. I'll give you a crime to solve if you give me something.'

'Go on.'

'When I get back I want you in my bed, naked and hard.'

'We'll see. Life would be insufferable if I was boring.' Sherlock said parroting back Jim early words.

Jim picked up the shampoo bottle and handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock squeezed some shampoo into his hand and lathered up Jim's hair. As his fingers combed through Jim's hair and dug into his scalp, Jim groaned and leaned against Sherlock. His cock was half-hard, but it was nothing he couldn't handle before he had to meet with his client.

Later that night, Jim came home and and stood in the doorway of his bedroom. The room was bathed in the yellow light of his bedside lamp. Outside the large window that over looked the city stars twinkled. He had bought the flat just for the view; every time he stood in front of the window he felt like a king over looking his kingdom.

He licked his lips as his eyes landed on his bed. It was large with a carved wooden post at each corner. Sherlock was laying on Jim's bed naked and one hand was slowly stroking his cock. His pale skin against Jim's dark red silk sheets made him look ethereal.

Jim removed his clothes as he walked to his bed. Once he was naked he shivered as cool air touched his skin.

'Look at you. Daddy's here,' Jim said as he walked to the end on the bed reached down to grab one of Sherlock's feet. He pressed his thumb into the arch and began to knead it. He smirked as Sherlock groaned and wiggled his toes; he had never met anyone who got turned on by a foot rub. Sometimes he wondered if Sherlock could come just by a foot rub.

Releasing Sherlock's foot, he got on to the bed and kissed Sherlock's long legs. His fingers slid over course, dark hair and his lips brushed over skin. He kissed his way up Sherlock's body until he came to Sherlock's hard cock. The cock was longer and thinner than Jim's own, the tip was deep red and a thick vain run from root to tip on the underside.

Jim started by sucking Sherlock's hairy balls into his mouth. Sherlock groaned and Jim's tongue swirled over the balls. After several moments he released the balls and decided to pay some attention to the hard cock in front of him. He lick the underside of the cock from root to tip and swirled his tongue around the head.

Sherlock's hip snapped up and his hands went into Jim's hair.

Jim wrapped his lips around the cock head and began to lick it. When his tongue poked into the slit Sherlock yelled out.

Sherlock's fingers dug into Jim scalp. 'Oh fuck yes!'

Jim grinned as his own cock began to harden. He didn't think anything could be such a turn on as Sherlock swearing.

He stopped licking the cock head and moved his head up and down, taking in more and more of the shaft until Sherlock's cock was entirely engulfed. Jim backed off Sherlock's cock until only the head was in his moth.

Sherlock held Jim's head and his hips snapped up forcing his cock down Jim throat. Jim's hand moved to his own hard cock and began stroking it; God it was such a turn on for Sherlock to take what he wanted. After several minutes Sherlock's thrusts became erratic and faster.

'Oh, oh! I'm going to... I'm going to...,' Sherlock said as his salty come filled Jim's mouth. Jim sucked down the salty come as Sherlock released Jim's head. Jim moved up and nuzzled Sherlock stomach; his skin was softer than the silk sheets he was laying on top of.

Jim stroked his cock faster and faster as he felt his orgasm building. He kissed Sherlock's skin and came.

Jim moved up Sherlock's body and collapsed on top of him. Sherlock's hand came up and rubbed Jim's back as Jim kissed and licked at Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock's skin was salty and soft.

As he fell asleep surrounded by Sherlock, Jim had always thought that he needed no one, but it turned out what he needed was his mortal enemy.