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Moriarty's gloved fingers traced the collar of Sherlock's shirt, his dark eyes gleaming with something more than just triumph. The detective was securely tied to a chair in the dimly lit flat, unable to move as his nemesis loomed over him.
"Tell me, Sherlock," Moriarty purred, his voice low and provocative. "Does the thought of submitting to me excite you? To give in to the desire you've fought so hard to deny?"
Sherlock's expression remained stoic, but a flicker of tension ran through him at Moriarty's words. The man's proximity was unsettling, the heat of his body practically palpable.
Moriarty leaned in closer, his breath whispering against Sherlock's ear. "I can see how hard you are, Sherlock. Your body betrays you even as you try to maintain your aloof facade."
Sherlock's jaw clenched, but he remained silent. Moriarty's teasing touch trailed lower, fingers dancing along the hem of Sherlock's trousers.
"You're wondering how far I'll go, aren't you?" Moriarty's tone turned husky with anticipation. "If you'll allow me to push past your boundaries, to claim you completely."
Without waiting for a response, Moriarty tugged the detective's pants down, exposing him to the cool air. His hand wrapped around the taut length, giving it a firm stroke.
Sherlock gritted his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his chest. But to his surprise, even as he struggled against the restraints, his body reacted eagerly to Moriarty's touch.
"Good boy," Moriarty crooned, his grip tightening. "Show me how much you want this."
He purred as he wrapped his lips around Sherlock’s length, the detective bucked his hips up involuntarily, a gasp of genuine shock and pleasure escaping his lips.
Moriarty licked up the underside of Sherlock’s cock, he shivered. The reality of what was happening dawned on Sherlock and he strained against his restraints, trying to get free.
Moriarty pulled off quickly and stood up, “You stay still, you’re mine” he growled.
He unzipped his pants, freeing his own erection. Aligning himself with Sherlock's opening, Moriarty pushed inside, a slow, deliberate invasion.
Sherlock's breathing turned ragged as he felt the fullness, the stretch. It was wrong, so phenomenally wrong, and yet... the pleasure was undeniable.
Moriarty set a rhythm, each thrust more forceful than the last. Sherlock's mind rebelled against the onslaught, but his body was quick to adapt, meeting Moriarty's thrusts with frantic counter-movements.
"Oh, you love this, don't you?" Moriarty taunted, his pace increasing. "Love being taken, used for my pleasure."
Sherlock's response was a mere grunt, his dignity in tatters as he succumbed to the overwhelming sensations. Moriarty's dominance was intoxicating, his touch both cruel and compelling.
As the climax approached, Moriarty leaned down, his lips grazing Sherlock's ear. "When you cum, I want to hear you scream my name."
The words were a siren's call, impossible to resist. With a hoarse cry, Sherlock shattered, his body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Moriarty rode him through it, his own release echoing shortly after.
As the aftershocks faded, Moriarty pulled out, leaving Sherlock feeling empty and exposed. Cool air caressed his sensitive skin, and he shivered, a mix of shame and lingering desire winding through him.
"Such a good boy, taking my cock so well," Moriarty praised, his tone softening. "You're going to make a wonderful pet."
Sherlock's eyes flashed with defiance, but Moriarty just chuckled, trailing a finger down the detective's cheek.
"Shall we move on to your punishment, then?"