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Sherlock kept his eyes locked on Jim as he leaned back into the plush armchair. His face was always much more interesting than the chessboard. He knew what was happening down there. It was mostly a boring. The pieces were still lined perfectly on either side, no moves had been made yet. The most interesting thing was the person behind it, and Jim Moriarty had never disappointed him when it came to keep his interest. This was just another means to keeping the both of them entertained for an evening.
“Sherly,” he drawled, moving a pawn to K4, white taking the first move, “I think we should make the game a little more interesting.” His hand found itself back on the arm of his own, black leather chair as he pulled his legs to tuck beneath him.
Sherlock countered Jim’s move, his own pawn moving to his own K4 space before arching a brow at him. “How do you suggest we do that?” he asked, watching Jim’s lithe fingers move to the board, Knight to KB-3. Sherlock quickly followed with own knight to QB3. He noticed immediately how familiar their game seemed.
“If I win, I get you for the night. If you win, you get me.” Bishop to B4.
“What does having you for the night entail?” Bishop to B4 as well.
Jim looked at him and grinned, those fingers pinching the tip of his pawn before moving it to QN4. “Whatever you want it to entail, Sherly. I’m a pretty open-minded fellow, if I do say so myself. We’ll have the whole of my flat to ourselves.”
Sherlock felt his chest tighten and for the first time, he looked down at the board, actually taking it in. The pieces were beginning to carefully spread already. He could win this. Bishop to NP. He would love to have Jim at his disposal for the night. The information he could get out of him, the conversations they could have.
Jim chuckled, moving his pawn to Q4. Sherlock leaned back in his chair, looking at the man. His pawn took the space. Sherlock moved the white piece to the side of the board and waited for Jim, his hands intertwining beneath his chin. “Your move,” he said with a smirk.
Jim winked at him. “Don’t get too happy. Just because you’ve won one teensy little battle doesn’t mean that you’ll win the war.” He slid his nearest rook over to his king, castling it. “See? I’ve protected my king from you, rogue.”
Sherlock scoffed and moved a pawn to Q6. Jim grinned. He scooted to the edge of his seat and pushed the board out of the way, piecing tumbling to the floor. “Queen to Knight 3.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes. No more board? Very well, if that’s how Jim wanted to spin it.
“Queen to Bishop 3,” Sherlock replied, threading his fingers together, pressing the tips against his lower lip. He still had the board perfectly visualized in his head. He could see his queen sliding along the black-and-white spots toward its rightful place.
“Pawn to King 5,” answered Jim’s singsong voice a few minutes later. His feet had lowered themselves from beneath his body to the floor.
“Queen to Knight 3.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the man, who sat so relaxed before him. He had been planning this the whole time. No matter, Sherlock didn’t need the board to play chess. It was a game of wits and strategy. The board only served as a reminder.
“Rook to King1,” Jim chuckled, standing. He walked over and took a seat at Sherlock’s side, sitting on the arm rest. He wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s shoulder, leaning in toward his ear. “Your move, Sherlock.”
“Knight to K2,” muttered, giving his best attempt to ignore the presence at his side. It was easier said than done. Jim Moriarty was an extremely difficult man to ignore.
“Bishop to Rook 3,” Jim said, sliding into Sherlock’s lap. He wiggled lightly against Sherlock’s thighs. “Keep up, Sherlock.”
“Pawn to Knight4,” he muttered. He adjusted himself as he felt Jim’s arse press against his groin. He chewed his lower lip. He needed to keep his mind on the game. There was no telling what Jim would do to him were he at his command for a night.
“Oops,” Jim frowned, running a finger down Sherlock’s neck. “Queen takes pawn.”
Sherlock growled. “Rook to Queen-Knight 1.”
Jim grinned and arched forward, pressing his lips against Sherlock’s jawline. “Queen to Rook 4.”
Sherlock wriggled against Jim’s movement. “Your sitting here is quite distracting,” he hissed. “Bishop to Knight 3.”
“All’s fair in love and war, Sherlock. Knight to Queen 2,” Jim purred.
“This isn’t about love. It’s about war. Bishop to knight 2.”
Jim readjusted himself so that he was straddling Sherlock’s hips. “I hardly agree. I think it’s about both. Knight to King 4,” Jim whispered, running a hand down Sherlock’s chest.
“Queen to Bishop 4,” Sherlock grunted slightly. He wouldn’t resort to Jim’s distraction tactics. It would only result to distract him from his own game. He had to keep as focused as he could.
“Bishop takes Queen-Pawn,” Jim grinned.
“Queen to Rook 4.”
Knight to Bishop 6. Check, Sherly.”
Sherlock scooted back and looked at the man. “Pawn takes Knight,” he hissed.
“Pawn takes pawn,” Jim said, that familiarly overdramatic tone. He scraped his teeth over Sherlock’s adam’s apple.
“Rook to Knight 1,” Sherlock whimpered before pushing Jim away. He forced the image of the chess board to come back. It had to stay in his mind, he had to look and see what his options were.
“Queen-Rook to Queen 1,” Jim pouted. “Oh, be more fun, Sherlock.”
“Queen takes Knight.”
Jim grinned. “Uh, oh, Sherlock… Rook takes knight. Check.”
Sherlock narrowed his gaze. “Knight takes rook.”
“Queen takes pawn, check,” Jim whispered, leaning again against Sherlock’s chest, pressing his nose against his throat.
Sherlock shivered, placing his hands on Jim’s hips. He moved his head to the side to expose his throat to the man. “K-King takes Queen.” The board was slipping from his mind again. Why was he allowing this to happen?
“Oh, I like the sound of that,” he crooned, running his tongue up his throat. “Bishop to Bishop 5. Double check.” He leaned forward and nipped the man’s lower lip.
“King to king 1,” Sherlock said, reaching back, gripping Jim’s arse.
“Sherly,” he tsked. “It’s nearly the end. Bishop to Queen 7,” he said, his small hands reaching down between their bodies to unfasten Sherlock’s belt.
Sherlock groaned softly, his mind searching for a move. Jim’s distractions had done their job. “King to Bishop 1,” he muttered, defeated.
Jim pulled away, standing before him. “Bishop takes knight. Checkmate,” he grinned. He chewed his lower lip, looking at the man before him. “And I think it’s time that you stood and finished undressing, Sherlock. We’re going to have quite the night ahead of us.”