His meeting the following morning was boring and predictable. This allowed his mind to wander off and think about Jim. The man left four years and returned wanting his help, so does he still care for him? Or was it a one time job for old time sakes? The latter made more sense; he's probably found someone new, someone younger, one with less personal baggage. It's not like he didn't see it coming, Sebastian himself is still in top condition that's why he's so high in demand. But Jim gets bored easily so he could get bored of him, it made sense.
He zoned back in to what his 'boss' was saying. He didn't know why he stuck to one person giving him jobs to do when he could take a job when ever he wanted it. But having one person gave him security and safety, as if he failed it was his neck on the line also as people associated them two together. Yet Mr. Wilberforce would never be known as a boss to him, he was just a man in suit. The term boss meant you have some respect for them, whereas Sebastian had none. He felt nothing towards the man and up until now that had been fine. But until now he didn't question any of the choices he made in the last four years. Up until now he didn't have a reason to.
He looked at the picture of his target. A woman early forties, her fake red hair cut into a pixie bob. Clearly trying to look younger than she is.
"She's a bitter reminder of the past. I want her disposed of," he said coldly.
Sebastian nodded "of course Sir." That was the thing, his motives were simple, emotionally tied, boring. The jobs he gives him are always simple, like he doesn't truly understand or believe what he is capable of. This job was no exception, a bullet through the back of the head and get rid of the body. No big elaborate scheme, no torture. He barely gets to play with knives anymore. Until Jim came back he forgot how much he missed it all, how much he has been lying to himself all these years that he didn't need that kind of life.
The task his boss sent him took three days to complete, and on the third day he quit his job and broke all entanglements he had to the man. It has taken him long enough; the man was dull, predictable and didn't appreciate what Sebastian could do for him. He was never one to take being underappreciated. One the fourth day, and numerous glasses of whiskey he shot of a text to Jim agreeing on doing the job.
He ignored this phone until the loud banging on his door on the fifth day told him the job was a go. He grabbed his riffle, pocketed his phone and answered the door. There stood one of many henchmen that worked for Moriarty. The younger man gave Sebastian a sharp nod and a glance over, before turning in his leather shoes and walking down the stairs. Sebastian couldn't help but notice the tailored suit the younger man was wearing, clearly he thought he was one of Moriarty's top men and so clearly didn't take too nicely with him being here.
The mission went smoothly, Sebastian just felt an annoying tick all the while he did the job. The little weasel Jim put in charge of him loved the display of power greatly. Everything Sebastian did differently to the way this kid worked received him a tut of disapproval.
Sebastian put away his beloved riffle while the clean up team did their job, none of them looked familiar to him. Clearly Sebastian was the only relic from the past Jim thought to bring back. The weasel was on the phone clearly to Jim, you could tell from the way he spoke. The sense to be respectful was present in his voice but so was an underlining flirty attitude to it, which grated on Sebastian's nerves.
"Yeah the job is done boss… I know but he works strange… I couldn't do that…"
Sebastian growled, he wasn't sure whether Jim was doing this for a ruse from him or this was actually genuine. He remembered similar talks he used to have after a job that was done well, the whispered dirty promises in a form as a reward to him. His skin itched at the idea of someone else was doing that Jim, he knew it was four years since how things were, but that still didn't stop him from feeling jealous.
He ripped the phone out of the kid's hand and sneered down the floor, "The job is done, make this one for old time sakes. I never want to hear from you again." With that he ended the call and threw the phone against the wall causing it to break. He gave a smirk that the kid's scared yet confused face before slipping from the roof and into the taxi that was waiting for him. This was him done with Jim Moriarty, if he could so easily slip from him why shouldn't he do exactly the same thing?
It's been six months since Sebastian did the job for Moriarty. It's been six months since he removed himself from Jim's life. It's been six months since he's even heard anything from the other man. It's been six months and he's only done three jobs. It's been six months since he lost his drive in his job. It's been six months since he's realised Jim was no longer his.
As of late he's been drinking himself in to a drunken state, a place where he shut off any thoughts of Jim. He's been trying to claim back that emotionless state he managed to get himself into around the second year of Jim's 'death'. He's been in numerous beds, men and women just trying to block out any thoughts. None of it seemed to be working, it seemed like now he knew Jim was alive his brain was just holding on to that fact. Driving him more and more insane with each passing moment.
He sees Sherlock and John on the news now, being greeted with cheers of joy. People respect them now, people care what they have to say, what they do. If he goes down the street, he's graffiti of people believing his Sherlock. There are fan clubs over him now, stories people write glorying his adventures. They know of Moriarty now, although their opinion on him divided. Some are fixed on believing he was real, other think it was the work of fiction, a myth created from some person's stories that people had taken as fiction. As for Sebastian no one knows who he is, and that's the way he would like it to stay. He's been slowly drifting off the most wanted list, his name becoming more of a rumour. They younger criminal don't believe he was even around, others who swear they've seen him dispute on what he's looks like. Some say he is a mad man, other know about his military past, some think his hair in sandy brown when other think it is as black as night.
He still does the occasional job, just to keep the money coming in and keep his name circling around the parts it needs to. The legend of his name is all he needs to slip back into the role if he ever wants to. Right now it doesn't seem very likely.
He found himself in another bar for another night in a row. He found a corner in the dark, shady bar. He found that hiding in this corner spared him from being hit on, judged or just stared out by the less confident. Although tonight being stuck in a corner didn't stop someone from sliding into his booth tonight. He got a scent of that familiar cologne, his closed his eyes and downed the rest of his whiskey. When he re opened his eyes there was those dark, soulless eyes staring back at him with raw confident he seemed to loose. The stubble still flaked across the pale skin and his lips still arched into that cocky smirk.
"Seb, it seems you've been disappearing of late," Jim commented, in his low amused voice. This was the voice he used when he wanted something from the other man, a voice he's used many times in the bedroom.
Sebastian pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and stared back at Jim with a level look. "Your point?" he asked, his voice showing the hint of a sneer.
Jim smirked and slid further into the former sniper's space, his eyes flashing with the old crazy excitement Sebastian used to see. It was a look he used to save for each other, one that meant his mind was purely on the man in front of him. No plans buzzing through that head, no thoughts of Sherlock, no thoughts of torture. Just him and only him. Jim didn't say any words, he never really ended them, and his hand ran down the side of Sebastian's face. The cold eyes taking in every detail of the old lover, every new scar, the heavy eyes from the constant drinking and the sleepless nights. Despite how much Sebastian fought against it as first, his body leaned into the touch, his eyes trained on Jim, watching him for any sudden movements. When Jim leaned in, Sebastian followed. Their lips meeting, hard and rash. They were never one for sweet tender kisses, they weren't those kind of people. This kiss was the anger, the resentment, the betrayal they both felt. The took out their anger on each other, gripping the clothes tightly, biting each other's lips, pulling at the hair harshly.
When they broke part, they kept their hold on each other, neither one refusing the let go. They glared at each other, before Jim twisted out of the hold and walked out of the bar quickly, his designer shoes clicking against the cold floor. Sebastian didn't even have to be told or even think about it, he was out off the booth and following Jim once again like a loyal puppy.
Once in the car the attack of teeth, lips, and tongues began again. Jim hands forcing up the other man's shirt and his nails gliding across the exposed skin. Sebastian groaned at the rough touch and leaned in to it. The car door was open and the two broke apart and hurried into the building.
Once inside the unmistakeable surroundings of Jim's flat, Sebastian was back on him. Forcing his against the wall as he slid a knee roughly between the Irishman legs, Jim wouldn't have any control in this. If Sebastian was going to break and give back into his weakness it would be on his terms and his terms only. He un-tucked the small man's shirt and undid it roughly, not caring if buttons flew across the floor. Once the chest was exposed, Sebastian withdrew his lips from the other man's and replaced them on the chest. He bite, pulled and licked the exposed skin, his hands bringing the smaller man's body to him, nails dragging down as he did so. The moans coming from the man, the whimpers the nagged breathing was too much for Sebastian. He hadn't heard them in so long; he almost forgot what they sounded like.
He stripped out of his old shirt and threw it across the room. His lips returned to the collar bone of the Irish man, determined to leave a mark and remind that little weasel who Jim actually belonged to. It didn't take long for him to rid the pair of them out off their trousers and underwear. He couldn't help but smirk when he found a condom and a small tube of lube in the back pocket of the other man. This was his plan all a long,
He placed the condom on his member and coated it with lube. He then slicked his fingers and entered both of them into Jim. They were both a fan of it being rough and the look of Jim's reaction it's been a while since he's had something like this. Good, Sebastian thought and curled his fingers inside of him. Just as Jim got used to his fingers being there, Sebastian removed them and gripped the other man's leg strong as he pushed himself inside. Jim groaned loudly, his legs wrapping around the taller man's waist and pushed himself further down. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth hung open slightly. Sebastian leaned forward to kiss the exposed neck and moved in a steady but harsh rhythm with his hips.
The moans and groans tumbling out of Jim's mouth were all Sebastian could hear, he had no idea what he was saying whether he was even saying anything. Their breathing became more and more irregular, and the thrusting of the hips became erratic. Sebastian stroked Jim's member in rough, uneven strokes. It didn't take long for either man to reach their orgasm. They both fell against the wall, struggling to control their breathing. Jim's hand went out to reach the other man's face, but he moved away and pulled out of him.
The sniper quickly got his clothes on and gave Jim one last look. "This doesn't change anything," he said, voice coming off cold and interested. This didn't change anything, this was just for old time sake's, like his job. Sebastian struggled with the idea of leaving Jim behind because his body craved for one last touch from the newly alive man. Now he had it, he could leave and disappear into the sea of people that flooded London. And so he left, without a goodbye or even a glance over his shoulder. As he walked from the flat he was leaving behind the old him, his old life and his old lover. He was finally ready to move on from Mr. Jim Moriarty.