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Emergency Contact	By : RueRambunctious Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 1534 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any related adaptations (inc. Professor Moriarty) and make no money from this story.

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Arty seems nervous in the lift, fidgeting a little out of time with the bland elevator music.

Sebastian slings his arm lightly around the brunette's shoulders and feels relief when Arty does not shrug them off.

“Hey,” Sebastian says softly. “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable down there… I honestly don't intend to hurt you.”

“I'm fine,” Arty says curtly.

“You don't have to lie for my benefit,” Sebastian says softly. “Do you want me to let you go?”

Arty's gaze flickers to Sebastian and away again before his expression can be read. “You're paying to touch me,” Arty says coolly.

“No; I'm paying for your company and time,” Sebastian counters. “I don't have to touch you if you'd rather I didn't.”

“You didn't seem short of friends last night,” Arty says indifferently.

Sebastian shifts on his feet. “That's different,” he asserts, but he doesn't explain how.

“Not much point in paying for a whore and not making use of him,” says Arty stiffly.

Sebastian looks down for a moment. He admits, “I only booked the extra night here because I didn't expect to be sober enough for check out. And… I don't really want to go home. Your company is a bonus.”

“Expensive one,” Arty comments, swallowing.

“I can make more money,” Sebastian shrugs. “And I don't have anything more important to spend it on.”

The lift dings, alerting them to their floor. Both young men shift their weight, but Arty does not pull away as the doors open.

They walk to their room in silence. Sebastian pulls his arm away to pull out the key card, his other hand still carrying the leather belt.

Arty waits, standing awkwardly like a discarded doll or drained robot, his expression unreadable.

Sebastian pushes the door open and steps aside to offer Arty entry.

The brunette steps inside without making eye contact.

“Undress,” Arty demands.

Sebastian freezes, palm outstretched to close the door. “Pardon?”

“Get undressed,” Arty repeats firmly.

Sebastian does not close the door, keeping the brunette's route of escape open. “Why?”

Arty spins and strides towards Sebastian. “Because this is what I know how to do,” the brunette snaps, reaching for Sebastian's buttons.

Sebastian forces himself to stay still. “Are you completely sure about this?” he asks.

“You weren't complaining last night,” Arty points out archly.

“I didn't put my foot in it last night,” Sebastian adds dryly.

The brunette's eyes pierce Sebastian but stay incomprehensible. Arty's hands make quick work of the shirt buttons as Sebastian's chest rises and falls quickly underneath. “Make it up to me,” Arty challenges.

Sebastian closes the door, drops the belt, and lifts Arty off of his feet. Sebastian carries Arty over to the bed freshly changed in their absence and drops him down lightly.

“I've wanted to undress you from the moment I saw you in my shirt,” Sebastian confesses, pulling off Arty's trainers and reaching for the boy's waistband.

The trousers are loose and with a bit of helpful wriggling from Arty Sebastian manages to simply pull them right off.

Arty sits on the bed in his socks and Sebastian's shirt. He looks delectable and the cool smirk on his lips is debauched.

Sebastian tugs off his open shirt and reaches for his fly, his trousers already spotted from his arousal. Here's hoping that dries in a more subtle shade. Sebastian pulls his trousers off and kicks off his dress shoes, but allows his damp boxers to remain in case Arty changes his mind.

“Make it up to, you said?” Sebastian says seductively, mounting the bed and swinging Arty around by his white thigh.

Arty lets out a huff of air, but watches Sebastian through interested eyes as Sebastian reaches for the shirt's hem and pushes it up, lowering his mouth to press kisses all around Arty's groin.

Arty squirms and scoots down on the bed. Closer.

Sebastian licks and nips at delicate skin lightly, laving his tongue right across Arty's balls. His breath is warm and teasing.

Arty grips Sebastian's shorn blonde hair and pulls it pointedly towards his cock.

“Oh, so I'm doing a good job so far?” Sebastian teases, taking the brunette in hand.

“Stop torturing me and show me you're sorry already,” Arty says sourly, not removing his fist.

Sebastian obeys with a smile, using the arousal dripping from Arty's tip to facilitate a more lubricated grip of the young man's shaft.

Arty makes an approving noise.

Sebastian lowers his lips to the warm skin, encasing Arty in burning, wet heat. Knowing when not to tease, Sebastian coordinates a firm, fast motion with his hand and mouth, his stubbled cheeks hollowing.

Arty gasps and kicks out his heels, pushing his hips into the motion. He can feel Basher smiling around his dick but makes no sardonic retort, merely wrapping his fingers further in the short hair.

Sebastian continues diligently, leaning up on his strong thighs and using his freed hand to fondle Arty's wet balls.

Arty hums encouragingly. The approval pleases Sebastian and he increases his speed, feeling further gratified by the soft pants that fall from the brunette's lips.

Arty suddenly swings his other hand up to join the other gripping Sebastian's skull tightly, and the rocking of his hips intensifies to hard thrusts that make Sebastian's eyes water a little. Sebastian lowers his head further into the onslaught, determined to please.

The skin between Arty's hips starts to heat and tingle, blood rushing underneath the skin feeling like electricity to Sebastian's fingertips.

Arty comes then, grabbing Sebastian harshly as he fucks the older man's throat. Sebastian feels jet after jet of warmth coat the back of his neck and swallows obediently. He laps Arty's tip with his tongue, coaxing out the last drops and making Arty squirm with hypersensitivity.

It occurs to Sebastian that he has just swallowed a whore's pleasure, completely forsaking protection.

Sebastian pushes down the small, shrill sliver of panic, telling himself that he'll visit a clinic later. Arty looks pleased, and right now that's enough.

“So what did you want to do with the belt?” Arty asks.

Sebastian blinks at him. “We don't have to-”

“Shut up,” Arty grumbles, not unkindly. “My legs are still weak; go get it.”

Sebastian leaves the bed reluctantly and retrieves the brown strip of leather. Arty snatches it lightly as Sebastian approaches the bed, folding it over and eyeing Sebastian with a dangerous speculation that makes Sebastian's cock twitch.

“So how do you like it?” Arty asks. He is sitting up, some of the shirt buttons undone or perhaps lost in the sheets.

Sebastian looks away bashfully and raises his wrists. “I was only thinking of having you tie my hands against my back, as I'm rougher when I'm sober and didn't want to 'leave any marks.'”

Arty lets out an amused laugh. “Come here then,” he purrs.

The extra enthusiasm the brunette's voice makes Sebastian's eyes snap up to Arty curiously. Arty merely smirks deviously and grips Sebastian's wrists, pulling them roughly behind the larger man's back and twisting the belt. He checks the tightness for Sebastian's circulation and fastens the leather with practised ease.

Sebastian feels a thrill in his stomach.

“Get on the bed,” Arty orders.

Sebastian obeys, watching Arty with interest. Arty is growing hard again, tenting the front of the shirt, and the hem rides enticingly over his hips. Sebastian's never seen anything so fuckable.

Arty pushes Sebastian down and scans around for the lube.

The domestic help has placed it neatly on the bedside cabinet. Arty snatches it up and after ripping down those boxers puts it to use, leaving it cold to hear the way Sebastian gasps.

Sebastian squirms and protests, but something about Arty's wicked grin makes his insides flutter.

Arty takes Sebastian hard, biting along his neck and shoulders in a way that sets Sebastian's jaw and makes his hips snap furiously. Arty's hands are rough and everywhere, and Sebastian knows the belt is the only thing that's stopping him from turning the vixen black and blue in passionate reciprocation.

The leather has stretched and almost torn when Arty finally lets Sebastian go. Sebastian's shoulders ache and he gets the barest relief when he rolls them, but he feels a steady sort of thrill at the battered sight of himself.

Arty grins at him with a fascinating dark heat in his gaze.

They fuck on and off lazily throughout the day, only breaking off for food. They order lunch to their room and are served by a seasoned, nonchalant older man, but they venture down to the restaurant again for dinner. The girl from earlier is escorting an infirm, elderly guest to a table with genuine kindness and notices the young men on her way back to the lobby. Sebastian cannot find a comfortable position to sit and the girl's eyes widen at his fidgeting. She spares them both a friendly, wicked look which Arty returns smugly. Sebastian's lips curl upwards slightly but his ears are notably pink.

The pair return upstairs slowly, not taking the lift due to an unspoken understanding of their desire to linger in each other's company.

Arty flops onto the bed and Sebastian joins him, pressing up together companionably for a while. Eventually Arty pulls himself up slowly and starts to change back into his clothes.

Sebastian watches him a little morosely, wanting to persuade Arty to stay for as long as possible, but understanding by the way Arty's posture starts to stiffen that this is after all only a job.

“Thanks for a better weekend than I imagined,” Sebastian says.

Arty looks up, noting the warmth in Basher's voice for what it is. “Likewise,” he says in a voice devoid of inflection.

The brunette stuffs his earnings into his pocket and heads towards the door.

“Wait,” Sebastian blurts.

Arty stiffens but looks around questioningly.

Sebastian quickly crosses over to the desk and uses a hotel pen to print out his number on a corner of paper. He rips it away and approaches Arty with it slowly.

“In case… you know… you take on a job that's more dangerous than you expected,” Sebastian says a little awkwardly.

Arty glances up at Sebastian then down at the phone number with an inscruitable expression, but reaches out to take it, brushing against Sebastian's skin.

Arty leaves, murmuring, “At ease, soldier.”

Sebastian goes back to the bed and stares at the bland ceiling trying to process his swirling emotions.
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Emergency Contact