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The needle slipped into his neck without any trouble. John Watson's vision blurred as his body began to give in, slumping toward the cold cement. Sherlock, he tried to mutter, but the words wouldn't come. Blackness overtook the doctor, pulling him into the void. Help. Help me, please...

When he awoke, he found himself on a large bed. He wasn't restrained, but he was completely unable to move- side effect of the drug, he thought groggily as he tried to will his limbs to action.

"It's raining, it's pouring, Sherlock is boring..."

I know that voice. No, no, it can't be-

"I'm laughing, I'm crying, Johnny is dying..."

Out of the shadows stepped Jim Moriarty, a sick grin on his face. "Or he will be, if he's not a good boy. Miss me, my dear?" John tried to move, to get away, but his body was useless. Jim leaned down and traced the curve of his jaw with one manicured finger.

"Sherlock is an idiot. He's dull, he's boring, he's just like everyone else. But you, Johnny... You're a good man, with dark, dark little secrets... A killer, a liar, a fascinating creature in such a small, unassuming package. I know you shot that poor cabbie, I know about the war, I know everything. I own secrecy, and now... I own you. Everyone thinks it's Sherlock I'm after, but no, no, they don't see, they don't understand. I want him out of the picture. I want you, Johnny." He straddled the doctor's hips and turned his black gaze upon him.

One soft hand slid up John's chest, the other flicking a knife open. "I'm going to love unwrapping you... A present, just for me, aren't you Johnny? Such a good boy, so quiet, so pliant... Pity that, though, I'd love to hear your noises. Your screams, just for me..." The blade severed the fragile threads holding the buttons on his cardigan closed.

John narrowed his eyes to the best of his ability, desperately trying to move, to push Moriarty away, but it was fruitless. The man had planned his capture meticulously. John was trapped like a fly in his web, helpless to escape. Please, don't do this. Don't do this to me. As if he could sense John's unease, Jim leaned down and cupped his jaw more surely. "Shh, Johnny. I'm going to be your very best nightmare. You'll hate it, oh, how you'll wish I'd stop, but slowly? Mmn, slowly you'll start to crave me. You'll want more. And if you could beg... you would."

Jim pressed his soft, full lips against John's, licking into his mouth with a groan. The doctor's cobalt eyes widened, and he tried to break away to no avail. Jim had him exactly where he wanted him, exactly how he wanted him, limp and silent and unable to fight him off. The madman let out a low growl and let one hand slip down John's stomach. He forced the clasp of John's belt open and clawed at the button that held his denims closed. Deft fingers jerked the zipper down, baring his pants to the cool air of the room. "Oh... Red? Really? Not very age-appropriate, but I love surprises." Jim pulled back enough to tug down his jeans properly, tossing them into the darkness. He switched to John's layers, using the knife to cut through to his chest. Beneath the cardigan, there was a sweater and a button-down, and beneath that a crisp, tight white undershirt.

"Wonder what's under here..."

Jim knotted the fabric in his fists and dropped John a wink as he wrenched it apart. The shirt ripped up the middle, leaving John's chest and stomach exposed. He tried to shake his head, but he only managed the smallest of moments. Cool hands slid up his bare skin, thumbing every scar, every line of muscle or lack thereof. Jim let out a shuddering moan and turned his eyes back to John's.

"It's such a waste to hide behind so many layers, Johnny. Look at all this pretty skin..."

His gentle touches turned rough as he dragged his nails down his chest, leaving angry red trails in their wake. John's eyes watered at the sting, but his throat wouldn't let him cry out. Jim bent down, his lips brushing over John's scar. "Accustomed to pain, to suffering, and still you fight on... You don't fear pain, not at all. You welcome it, don't you, John? That's good, wonderful, really, because this is going to hurt." His blade flashed. John felt a faint sting- a short, shallow cut along his sternum. Blood welled and dripped down the curve of his muscle, and Jim's grin turned absolutely wolfish. His warm tongue darted out to lick it away, and his moan was absolutely obscene.

Cut after cut rose on his body, with Jim's mouth always close behind. He worked his way down to John's legs, always avoided touching his groin. John thought he was getting lucky, but a quiet voice in the back of his head reminded him the night wasn't over yet. Moriarty clearly had plans for him beyond a little bloodplay. Just get it over with, just let me go, do what you plan on doing and let me go!

Jim paused, the stained knife hovering over his thigh. "See, Johnny? I told you you liked me." His dark whiskey-colored eyes were locked on John's cotton pants, stretched taut over his stiffening cock. He pocketed the blade and cupped him with a chuckle. "Oh... Oh, you're big... I think I'm going to enjoy this, doctor." Jim tore them from his legs and let out a pleased coo at the sight of him.

No, no, please, don't touch me, don't you fucking *dare * touch me, you sick bastard!

Jim ran his tongue along John's shaft, from his base to his head, breath hot against the doctor's skin. "Mmn... I could get used to this... I might just work harder to please you, Johnny, so I can keep your pretty little cock around."

His lips parted and wrapped around John's length, swallowing him slowly as his fingers dipped to tease his hole. John watched as Jim hollowed his cheeks- the sight was honestly sexy, the way it threw his features into stark relief- and began to bob his head. His tongue flicked against John's skin almost playfully. No. No... John didn't want to enjoy it. He hated how good it felt, how much he loved each groan Jim let out, how much he enjoyed the slow rocking of his hips against the bed. It's wrong. It's so bloody wrong! I don't deserve this, I didn't do anything wrong, I just want to go home to Mary and try to forget...

Jim pulled off with an obscene pop, lips shiny with spit. "I can feel your pulse," he cooed, "beating away in your prick. You love this, Johnny, can't lie to Daddy. Daddy knows." He pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his jacket and set it on the comforter. "Before we go any further, I'm going to need you out of all... this." The criminal lifted John's shoulders and pulled off the remnants of his shirts. They were thrown unceremoniously aside, into the darkness like the rest of his clothing.

"There we go... Much better."

Jim pooled the lubricant in his palm and slicked his fingers. He pressed against John's muscle, marveling at how soft his skin was. "Mmn... Little Johnny's a virgin... You're lucky. Your first time gets to be with a man who knows how to fuck." He chuckled as he crooked his finger. "Mr. Sex indeed. I'd make you scream, of you were able to. Did I say that already? No harm in driving the point home..." Jim turned his wrist, the tip of his finger brushing against the swelling nerves inside of John. In spite of the paralytic, his thigh twitched against the bed.

"Must feel good, huh, Johnny? After all the cocks that have passed those pretty lips, to finally have a little pleasure for yourself? You can tell Daddy, you know. I really want to know."

Jim was met with silence.

"Imagine the look on that wife of yours' face when she finds you naked and covered in come, laying still on the bed... I know I am. She's horrified. Mine, yours, dripping onto the blanket, and you, flushed and well-fucked and oh, she'll never compare, will she? Not with Daddy's dick."

A second now, both bent and massaging him from the inside. Now and again he twitched as Jim stimulated his sensitive nerves, but he could not moan, he could not scream, he could not get away. Moriarty had him, and John had never been more terrified. Strapped with Semtex, pierced through the shoulder, kidnapped by gangs and thrown into fires- he'd faced them all, and come out alive and strong. This, though, this was different. This wasn't a blow to the head or mistaken identity. This was a maniac who fancied him, a maniac willing to take what he wanted from him with no regrets.

By the time Jim had worked in a third finger, John was praying. Praying he got bored, praying he could escape, praying to a God he'd never believed in. He was open and bare, and from the predatory look on Moriarty's face, things were about to get worse.

"There we go... Good boy, Johnny." Jim withdrew his hand and ran it down his shaft, slicking himself. He gripped the doctor by the hips and lined their bodies up. With one sharp thrust he buried himself in John's warmth, moaning as his muscles twitched weakly. "Ohn... Doctor Watson, you..." He started to move, hips rocking slowly as he filled John again and again. "Such a tight little pussy... I wonder... mmn, wonder how you'd look if I opened you up to watch..." Jim grinned down at John and placed one hand on his throat. "I bet you're nice and pink, Johnny." He squeezed, and John's tear-filled eyes widened. No, no, don't let me die here, not like this!

"Relax, I'm not going to kill you. That would be so dull, Johnny, and you know how I hate that. " Jim rolled his hips for emphasis, pressing deeper into the terrified doctor. It hurt. John's damp eyes overflowed, his vision of the Irishman blurring as tears fell from his lashes. Jim bent down and licked them away, breath hot as he bucked faster. "Poor, sweet Doctor Watson, with his closet full of skeletons... Is Daddy too much for you to take? I think you like, John, I think you like me. Do you think I've forgotten about the pool? About how you trembled when I touched your thigh, about howhard you were when you grabbed me? Daddy sees everything, Johnny, never forget that." His grip tightened as he snapped his hips forward.

John managed a quiet whine, barely audible above the creak of springs and Jim's low moans. "Oh? Now what was that? Is it wearing off already? Is my pliant little pet going to make noise for his Daddy?"

John shook his head- just a little, just a slight movement, but the sight made Jim's russet eyes burn black with lust.

"Oh yes you are. Know what Daddy does to liars, Johnny? He skins them."

Jim kissed him again, rougher this time, all teeth and desperation as he thrust harder into the paralyzed doctor.

John was quickly regaining control of his motor functions. He tried to summon the strength to shout, to push Jim off, to do anything to get himself free, but Jim's hand tightened as he opened his mouth. Of course, of course he can tell, he's inside of me and he can feel every movement. He knows I can move, he heard me make a sound, he knows I can speak.

"Say my name."

"N-no."

"Johnny. Say. My. Name." His thrusts grew almost painful as he pounded into John.

"I... J-Jim..."

"Louder."

"Jim."

"Scream, Johnny."

"JIM! Fuck, JIM!"

Moriarty grinned and bit down, sucking a mark over his pulse as he loosened the hand crushing the doctor's throat. "Good boy, such a good boy for Daddy... It almost sounds like you want this, Johnny, like you want to be fucked..."

And with every soft coo of praise, with every roll of his hips, with every lick of his tongue and scrape of his nails John was starting to find pleasure in the assault. There was an intimacy to it, a need in every thrust, that made John wonder if Jim's words were true. Did he want me badly enough to force me into this? Have I really been on his mind that often? Is this his sick way of showing genuine attraction to me? Jim grinned down at him and rubbed his unshaven cheek against John's. "Mmn, starting to see things my way, Johnny Boy? Starting to see how good Daddy can be?" His low brogue sent chills down John's spine.

"Y-yes," he croaked.

"Want me to touch you, John? I can feel how hard you are- leaking against my stomach, looks like your body knew before you did... Ask me nicely, now."

John licked his lips and raised his eyes to meet Jim's. "Please. Please, Jim, touch me."

"Hmn... I don't know. Are you a good boy, Johnny?"

It was humiliating. It was degrading. And yet... Some part of him, some secret thing inside of him, actually enjoyed it. It made him feel good, so fucking good, and he knew it was twisted, but right then, he didn't care.

"Yes, yes, I'm a good boy."

"Yes what?"

Should I... "... Yes, Daddy."

Jim groaned his approval and wrapped his hand around John's cock and started to stroke, listening to the doctor's moans with a pleased smile. "That's right, Johnny, Daddy's got you." He bucked harder, his arm pumping in time with his hips. John lifted one shaking arm, still heavy from whatever drug pumped through his veins, and threaded it through Jim's dark hair. He tugged gently, and Jim rewarded him with a squeeze to his slick head.

"Want me to let you come, Johnny? Want Daddy to get you off?"

"Y-yes!" He gasped.

"I want to hear you beg."

John took a breath, throat still burning. "Daddy... please. Let me come. I deserve it, I've taken every cut, every scratch, every inch of you. Make it better. Fix it for me, please..." He didn't know where the words were coming from, or the need to submit to the madman, but he couldn't stop them.

Jim thumbed over his head and twisted his wrist, listening to John cry out in pleasure. "There... there's a good boy. Come for me, come for Daddy, show me how much you like my prick, Johnny..." John cried out, body going rigid as he spilled over Jim's tight fist. It hurt; the paralytic left a throbbing ache in his body, and the tightening of his muscles made him wince in pain, but Jim seemed to like him cringing. "Fuck! Johnny!" He slammed his hips forward, releasing inside him with a primal snarl. He stayed buried inside him as his kissed the sweating doctor, biting at his lips. "I told you, Johnny," he growled into his ear. "I told you I owned you. My good little toy soldier..." John tried to protest, but Jim cut him off with a squeeze to his throat.

"Just one problem... About that wife of yours..."