The Man Beneath the Cleverness
They had kissed for the first time a moment ago downstairs, it had just happened… to be honest it had been inevitable, the amount of time they had spent together the last few weeks, the ever growing tension between them…
The kiss had made Jim feel things he had never felt before, so much so he had now let Moran guide him upstairs to the bedroom.
The bedroom felt impossibly quiet.
Jim stood just inside the doorway for a moment after Moran closed it behind them.
Aware of the fact that whatever happened next would be entirely new territory.
He was not some nervous schoolboy.
Future architect of half the fucking criminal underworld.
A man who could manipulate politicians, dismantle reputations, and reduce complex systems to elegant equations.
Yet somehow standing in a bedroom with Sebastian Moran left him feeling more uncertain than any of those things ever had.
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Immediately regretting how awkward it looked. His posture was stiff. His hands folded together. Like a man attending an interview he hadn’t prepared for.
Moran leaned against the door and watched him. Amused. Entirely too amused.
“You’re sitting like you’ve been summoned before a disciplinary committee.”
The unfortunate thing was that he wasn’t entirely wrong. James rolled his eyes. Moran laughed. And somehow that helped. A little. Not much. Enough.
The truth was difficult to admit. Not because he lacked experience entirely. Because he didn’t. There had been people before. A handful. Experiments more than anything else. Attempts to understand what everyone else seemed so fascinated by.
Moments pursued out of curiosity rather than desire.
None of it had ever felt meaningful. None of it had lingered afterward. He remembered faces only vaguely. Names even less clearly. There had always been something missing. A disconnect he couldn’t explain. As though everyone else had been participating in a conversation while he’d only been studying the grammar.
Then Sebastian Moran had kissed him downstairs.
And suddenly every previous experience felt absurdly irrelevant.
“It’s helping enormously.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Moran noticed immediately. The bastard noticed everything. Without hurry, Moran crossed the room. Not stalking. Not pursuing. Just approaching. Certain in a way James found simultaneously comforting and infuriating.
He sat beside him on the edge of the mattress. Close enough that their shoulders touched lightly. Nothing more. No pressure. No expectation. The simple consideration almost undid him. Most people demanded things from Jim.
Very few simply gave him space.
“You know” Moran said quietly, “there isn’t a correct answer here.”
“That sounds suspiciously inaccurate.”
The sound softer than usual.
For a moment neither spoke.
The distance between them almost nonexistent.
His name sounded different coming from Sebastian.
The realization left him strangely vulnerable.
Moran’s hand found Jim's hand and held it. Simple. Steady. Their fingers intertwined naturally. As though they’d done it a hundred times before instead of never. Jim stared down at their joined hands. Unexpectedly fascinated.
“The man underneath all the cleverness.”
Normally he would have deflected. Made a joke. Changed the subject. Built another wall. Tonight he found he didn’t want to. The realization arrived slowly. Like dawn creeping across a horizon. He trusted this man.
Possibly catastrophically.
Moran lifted his free hand to Jim’s face. The gesture was unhurried. Just giving him every opportunity to move away.
Their second kiss was different from the first. It was less surprising. More certain. Not because Jim knew what he was doing. Quite the opposite. But because he finally stopped worrying about doing it correctly.
For once there was no performance.
No examination waiting at the end.
When the kiss ended, Moran rested his forehead lightly against his. Close enough to share breath. Close enough to hear the faint hitch in Jim’s breathing.
“Still nervous?” he asked quietly.
The honesty felt strangely liberating.
Moran smiled. Not mockingly. Not triumphantly. Just warmly.
For perhaps the first time that evening, James stopped searching for a better answer. He stopped trying to understand every feeling before allowing himself to experience it. He stopped treating his own heart like a mathematical problem.
Instead he simply leaned closer.
Allowed himself to be guided.
Allowed himself to trust.
And as the city murmured softly beyond the windows and the winter night settled around them, James Moriarty stepped willingly into unfamiliar territory..
//Hope you all enjoy my take on this. These two are my favourite ship (stating the obvious I know) Last solo story for now, have shared all the ones I had written up. though, I do have some more in the works… but in the words of Moriarty… “no rush”. //
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