Sherlock Imagines

Kinktober Day 8; public sex+ Sebastian Moran

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" The door slammed closed behind him, the sound reverberating through the alley, and the cold air biting at your skin to leave small goosebumps on your arms. He stormed after you when you ignored him, grabbing you by the wrist and pushing you into the wall.
"I was doing my job, you fucker!" You spat at him, glaring as your head began to ache from the force, "Boss said to—"
"I don't care what Moriarty said! That was fucking reckless, and you know it!" He all but screamed, face burning with anger, "You were nearly killed, dumbass!" You knee came up, slamming right under his ribs. Doubling over in pain, he released you, backing up a bit.
"I was fine! And don't you dare call me that!" Your hand came flying quickly towards his face, but he was quicker. He caught your wrist again, scooping up the other one and pushing you back against the rough bricks.
"You didn't have backup—Do you know how fucking worried I was?!" His face was millimeters from yours, his gaze softening before his eyes fell closed. He sighed, shaking his head.
"I worry about you, you know that..." He muttered, pressing his lips to yours. And what could you say? You melted into it, shifting your shoulders to press yourself closer. Your teeth caught his bottom lip as he pulled back, and instead of getting flustered or upset, he just chuckled.
"You would be into this, wouldn't you? Two blocks from the main road, freshly escaped from death, pinned to the wall..." His voice drifted off, a shiver running through him and blood rushing southward. Maybe he wasn't any different.
"...by the deadliest hitman in the world." He snickered, kissing you again, running his free hand across your hip, letting it dip down to grope your ass. A soft moan floated past your lips.
"Hmm..." His hand tucked under your thigh, lifting it up to his waist, "Damn, Sweetheart...maybe I did underestimate you..." He teased, nipping at your jaw as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His fingers slipped down to rub against the inner hem of your jeans, languidly pushing and curling, oh-so teasingly.
"Fuck..." You squirmed, attempting to tug your hands down to his hair, but his grip was too tight.
"I'd say..." You managed out breathily, barely containing your gasping moans, "You may be the best hitman, but I'm better." A sharp hiss broke through your words as he pinched at your clit through the denim. He rose an amused brow, licking his lips.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. It's a lot harder to kill a man when he's paranoid...but I've got a solution for that." Your head bobbed, tongue pressing against the backs of your teeth to quiet yourself.
"And what's that?" He dipped down to kiss your neck, gently begging to bring his hips into yours, his growing bulge causing your mind to grow foggy.
"Easy. Men are a lot less prepared for death when your on your knees about to blow them." Your lips curled up into a smirk as his body went rigid. Oh? Did he not like that? Whoops...
"Listen here you naughty little whore," His hand left the small space between your bodies, immediately grabbing your chin. You gasped, not sure whether it was at the loss of friction or the sudden harshness.
"This pretty little mouth," He slammed his mouth to yours, tongue pressed down your throat, before he tore away, "belongs to me. Now, you're going to get down on those knees, and show me what it's for." Jealousy suited him, or at least, you thought so. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you nodded. He dropped your arms, letting you sink down. Your nimble fingers hastily undid his belt, your hot mouth dipping down to kiss and nip at his groin. He shuddered, hips pushing forward without his control. Growing impatient, he pushed your hands away, tearing the belt off himself and tossing it aside as he pushed down his pants. Calloused fingers pressed against your scalp, yanking you closer. He didn't need to prompt you any further, you just slipped your mouth around his cock, tongue flicking up to tease at his foreskin whenever you began pulling off. And when you did, his hand was always right there, ready to force himself down your throat, again and again.
"Christ-!" He hissed, biting the edge of his fist to hush himself, "So good, baby—so, so good..." His hips were relentless pushing into the wet heat between your lips, uncaring when you choked up when it went too far. Good was right...
His eyes screwed shut, cock twitching in your lips as his fingers tangled themselves in your hair. As his hips pressed forward, he tugged you closer, spilling down your throat with a slightly-too loud, broken groan of your name.
"Let's get out of here, before someone comes to find out what that was." This time, he was flustered, a hot blush coating his cheeks. Your thumb swept across your chin before pressing into your lips. Your throat was definitely sore, but you'd gotten what you wanted, to temporarily satiate you.
"No problem, handsome"."