#flightofthethievingmagpie

valentine’s day shenanigans || accepting || @flight-of-the-thieving-magpie​

It’s for Seb, from his favorite boss. Submissions won’t let me go anon so just pretend I’m on the right blog wjhhfhewg

“Jim, I had no idea you were into the daffy duck look, but if a shirt and no pants is what you prefer, I’ll be happy to oblige. Whatever you wish, boss, of course.” Always willing to follow orders, even ridiculous ones, he shrugs a shoulder and unfastens his trousers before letting them fall to the floor.

“The doctor said you need to work on it, Bastian,” Jim purrs, his head tilting to the side to show how little tolerance he really has for Seb’s frustration with the whole matter. “I think you’re just lacking the proper motivation.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrow, knowing full well that Jim has something concocting in his mind. Some plan to push the sniper past his comfort levels into dangerous territory. “You’ve put me in the line of fire. It nearly got me killed. So clearly, it isn’t a matter of self-preservation, Jim.”

“For your preservation, no. But see. That’s where you missing the point.”

Sebastian doesn’t understand. His face betrays this fact.

“Do I really need to spell everything out for you, Tiger?” Jim chides, smiling a menacing grin that can only mean more trouble for both of them. “Tell me. Would you die for me?”

“No.” It isn’t an answer to the question so much as it’s Sebastian telling his boss that he’s unwilling to play this game. “No. Jim. I don’t trust myself. I can’t do whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

“Relax, Sebastian. And don’t tell me no. Now come here and put your hand around my throat.”

With this, Seb rolls his eyes. “Now is hardly the time for one of your little fetish plays, Jim.” When it is clear the criminal isn’t going to budge on the matter, Seb walked over and gently placed his metal hand against Jim’s throat.

“Tighter,” Jim commands. Hesitantly, Seb obeys. “Sebastian. If you do not make me beg for air in the next two seconds, I’m going to cut off your other arm.” With anybody else, this would be an empty threat. But James Moriarty is insane enough, and just suicidal enough that Sebastian believes him.

Quickly he tightens his grip, effectively cutting off any air flow to Jim’s lungs. When Jim doesn’t immediately praise his soldier or ask for air, Sebastian gives the mental command again, using enough strength that he could easily provoke permanent damage to the Irishman’s windpipe and voicebox if he isn’t careful.

The hand is stronger than Sebastian had ever been in the past, and it isn’t long before the veins in Jim’s forehead are protruding and his eyes widen.

“That’s enough, Tiger,” he mouths, putting one of his own hands over the metal one.

Playing the game, Sebastian ignores the initial request. “That’s not begging, James,” he jokes, one brow raised. Now who is playing with their kinks?

“Sebas…” As Jim’s eyes begin to roll back in his head, Seb finally gives the mental command to loosen his grip.

The hand tightens more.

“Fuck. Jim, hang on. I’m trying. Just… Shit, pull against the fingers. I don’t think I can do this.”

The stress of the situation causes his entire arm to go into a full lockdown, elbow straightening so that Jim is pinned forcibly against the kitchen wall. The fingers, with Jim pulling at a couple and Sebastian prying at the thumb, still will not loosen.

“Fuck. No. No. Jim. What have you made me do?”

Even taking a step back so that Jim is free of the back barrier doesn’t help, as his arm is locked tight enough that he can literally pick the criminal up off the ground by the throat now. Unyielding. Clenching at his boss’ neck.

A string of profanity fills the air between them. “Yes,” he says in a weak tone. “Yes I would die for you.” Reaching for the nearest gun, Seb is down to his last option, to kill himself instead. Then the hand will completely release, won’t it? Or will it be locked in that same grip?

Now unsure of his options, the tiger closes his eyes and takes a deep breath which comes out in a shaky, terrified huff.

Finally the hand releases.

Continued from here || @flight-of-the-thieving-magpie

“I don’t like thinking about the past.” she replies, fingers brushing against the edge of the lid and she is wary, as she always is, even if secretly pleased. She always loved surprises.

When the paper is pushed aside and the ribbon discarded, Molly is silent, tongue pressed against the side of her cheek as she takes in his“gift”, the corner of her lips perking into a half-smile. She didn’t appreciate the tone and she certainly hadn’t expected anything from him, but this gift, beautiful as it was, had her gears turning in different patterns than expected.

“How fucking could you?” he asks again as Jim spits blood back in his face after a particularly hard punch from Sebastian’s left fist. The criminal simply smiles, teeth now pink and outlined individually from the blood in his mouth.

Seb aims for Jim’s gut now. Infuriated not only with his boss, but also at how he isn’t fighting back, how he’s acting like this is all still some fucking game.

It is, isn’t it? Isn’t it always to Jim?

“Please, Sebastian,” Jim purrs. It isn’t him begging, but more taunting. “You’re acting like a jealous lover. I only had sex with Susan a handful of times…”

With that, Seb lifts Jim off of the ground and throws him into their glass coffee table, shattering it.

“I hope I’ve punctured a major fucking artery with that glass. Be glad I don’t kill you for pulling this shit. I told you from the very beginning that my sister was off limits. Stay the fuck away from her.”