You understand me more than you want to admit. You're. Just. Being. Stubborn. *Each word punctuated by a single push on the top four buttons until tips of all fingers rest at collar.*
And you're not exactly the picture of mental health either, I might add.
I've never killed anyone. [He retorted, resisting the urge to flinch away from Jim's touch. Best not to let him know how much he was getting to him. He was never one for physical contact, especially not with a certifiable madman.
He just huffs indignantly and turns his head to avoid looking at him, hoping to keep it out of sight and therefore out of mind that Jim was the one getting closer than he'd ever allowed anyone.]
And that makes you special? I don't think so sunshine. But suit yourself up there on your pedestal.*laughs into Sherlock's exposed neck, not really intending it as a molestation moment. He was simply too amused at Sherlock's self righteousness. *
[There's a sharp inhale elicited when Jim laughs against his neck, shivering again, though not from the cold this time. He wasn't used to such closeness, and it was leaving him thoroughly unsettled and at a complete loss for what to do. He settles for huddling further into their pocket of warmth, hoping Jim wouldn't push him any more than he already had, because this was all already so very disconcerting.]
*Perhaps his nose rested too intimately against jugular and there was no sign of it being removed in the near future. Soon enough, there would be no more space to huddle back into. *
[Sherlock tried to ignore just how thoroughly Jim was invading his personal space, telling himself that at least he was getting some warmth from the other man. He leans his head against him, closing his eyes and making like he might get some sleep, though he'll remain wide awake. How could one sleep next to the likes of Jim Moriarty anyway?]
[Sherlock squirms just slightly when Jim yawns and his lips find his neck. He debated briefly whether he should lie down, but that would probably just make it easier for Jim to get even closer inasmuch as that was possible. He settles for keeping his eyes shut and attempting to even out his breathing, wishing he could somehow will his heart to stop racing as it was.]
Either you're scared or excited. Which is it Sherlock? Hmmm. Your possum impersonation despite your rapid heart rate is quite charming. *Every word spoken has Moriarty lips moving against skin.*
I'm fine, thank you. [He growls under his breath, making himself believe that the shiver that wracked him was from the cold and not from the warm lips moving against his neck. He resolutely keeps his eyes closed, trying not to think about how Jim was right on both counts. He only hoped his will to stay above such things as fear and excitement would do the trick and keep him grounded when all this new stimuli was threatening to short-circuit him.]
Liar liar pants on fire. Should I check if they are? *His hand travels midway but stops. Knows full well what that shiver means, but has no intention of doing more than tease until his fellow heat source snaps.*
[Sherlock twitches when Jim's hand is on him, exhaling a held breath when he stops before getting anywhere truly compromising.]
Stop it. [He hisses, finally opening his eyes to glare at him, briefly debating whether this was really preferable to hypothermia. He presses a hand over Jim's in an attempt to halt it from wandering more than it already had.]
Give me one good reason why I should stop innocently trying to warm myself, Sherlock and I will. Why should I not explore all venues? I can't help that you are getting all high school virgin on me.
*Moriarty clasps with both hands over Sherlock's one, shimmying around in order to do so.*
Nothing you've ever done could be considered 'innocent', even by the loosest definition of the word. [He clipped, wriggling minutely in indecision as he tries to figure a way out of this increasingly unsettling situation. His eyes narrow at the word 'virgin', huffing an indignant breath at the accursed nickname.
His fingers twitch when Jim's hands come about his, turning his head and reciting chemical formulas in his head to get his mind off of his current predicament.]
We must have different dictionaries then. *With a swiftness, he works to straddle Sherlock. Knees locking in at each thigh, he works to make the blanket cover them.*
Now, where were we? Ah yes, hand holding.* Moriarty reaches between them to grab one hand, thumbing the palm absentmindedly.*
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And you're not exactly the picture of mental health either, I might add.
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He just huffs indignantly and turns his head to avoid looking at him, hoping to keep it out of sight and therefore out of mind that Jim was the one getting closer than he'd ever allowed anyone.]
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Either you're scared or excited. Which is it Sherlock? Hmmm. Your possum impersonation despite your rapid heart rate is quite charming. *Every word spoken has Moriarty lips moving against skin.*
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Stop it. [He hisses, finally opening his eyes to glare at him, briefly debating whether this was really preferable to hypothermia. He presses a hand over Jim's in an attempt to halt it from wandering more than it already had.]
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*Moriarty clasps with both hands over Sherlock's one, shimmying around in order to do so.*
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His fingers twitch when Jim's hands come about his, turning his head and reciting chemical formulas in his head to get his mind off of his current predicament.]
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Now, where were we? Ah yes, hand holding.* Moriarty reaches between them to grab one hand, thumbing the palm absentmindedly.*
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