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Red in Tooth and Claw

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Holy fuck. Since when did a hand on his knee send a jolt of electricity through his entire body… It made him feel stripped and naked and wanting, and completely threw him. He realised this was the first deliberate touch - altercation over the gun aside – since two nights ago... Subconsciously the tip of his tongue ghosted over the cut on his lip, then he smiled.




Jim watched the glazed look in Sebastian’s eyes as his hand squeezed his knee. Oh, he was practically already in shackles...

He licked his lips again, this time unconsciously.

When he returned to his laptop, it was rather difficult to focus on boring old police communication... but it was important not to be too cocky, despite appearances...

And now he was distracted even from his spectacular getaway!

Fuck’s sake, Sebastian...

Well, obviously his soldier wasn’t out of his system yet... how long was this going to take?


(Really?) the little voice whispered. (You give him your mark, and then reassure him with another mark... and you’re still trying to get him out of your system?)


Piss off, Jim growled. I do what I want, when I want. I’m bloody changeable and I don’t answer to anyone...


(Not even me?) the voice said slyly.


Jim ignored this, staring straight ahead at his screen.





Long after Jim's eyes had returned to the laptop, Sebastian became aware that he was still staring at his boss’s hands on the keyboard. So he forced himself to do his job and look out the window to assess for threats. Luckily they seemed to be in the clear for the moment...


When they pulled into the yard of 'Idrizi & Son, Car Dealership and Repairs', a bearded, heavyset man was awaiting them. He motioned them to enter through one of the garage doors, which opened to let them in and then rolled back down behind them. When he emerged from the car, Sebastian was greeted with a crushing hug, barely suppressing a wince when the big paws hit his back.


“God, Loran – you should go a bit easier on the beer and cevapcici,” he grinned, and Idrizi laughed.


“Not here to give me a beasting, are you?”


“No, we need something…” Sebastian made a gesture that encompassed the car and everybody exiting from it. “Or rather, my boss does.”


He knew Loran kept his front business, the garage, strictly legit and above board, so nobody would come sniffing around. Sebastian felt a little bad for possibly drawing the cops here, not to mention the little dark-eyed devil in a Westwood suit… who as he sauntered over, looked harmless enough to those who didn't know better…


Sebastian decided to stick to the cover as long as Jim didn't decide otherwise. “My boss, James Beecham – Loran Idrizi. We met in Kosovo… a while back.”


“Mr Beecham, nice to meet you…” Loran eyed Jim, then Sebastian, the car, the other men. Jovial and exuberant by nature, he also wasn't one for mincing his words. “Bodyguard, huh?”

At Sebastian's affirmative nod, he shook his head and looked downright sad. “Basher, that is a shame...” To Jim, he said, “No offence, Mr Beecham - but if you knew Sebastian as well as I do, you would also know half of his talents are wasted in such a job...”


Sebastian had to suppress that borderline hysterical laugh again. If Loran knew Mr Beecham as well as he did, he would know that he'd killed people for lesser offences…


“As to why we’re here, Loran, apart from getting off the road for the next little while- Mr. Beecham would like to blow off some steam and shoot a few rounds... and we definitely need to change the plates on that car...” Sebastian said wryly, glancing at Jim. Probably best not to explain any further…





Time to have a look at this operation first hand... he’d heard of the Kosovan. As Sebastian was getting reacquainted with the large man, Jim wandered over to see the cut of his jib for himself.


Well, with his comments about Sebastian, the man had blundered already as far as Jim was concerned. But he couldn’t kill absolutely everyone he met a whim, he reminded himself.

Loran made amends by being all business right away... and escorting them to the shooting range while they were waiting for their new plates.


“So, Moran...” he said. “Why don’t you go first and show us how it’s done?”

He watched Sebastian intently, and leaned in closer.


“Impress me, darling...” he whispered. “Who knows what it will inspire me to do?”




From above ground, nothing betrayed the huge underground storage area - Loran had made a few adjustments, turning part of it into a firing range. And now, ever the businessman, he unlocked a gun cabinet beside the door and produced different weapons: a Walter PPK, a Beretta and a Glock. Laying them out on a table, together with magazines and spare clips, he recited the technical data for each.

Watching Jim's expression, Sebastian was pretty sure in this moment he didn't care a whit about their characteristics, as long as they went bang.


“Take the Walter, that's the loudest,” he suggested helpfully.


Terry and Mike had already grabbed ear protectors, and Sebastian now slipped a pair around his neck and handed one to Loran and one to Jim. Then, turning back to the cabinet to see what else was in there, he was stopped short by Jim's proposal to go first (except with Jim it was never a proposal - least of all when they were disguised as such).

They locked eyes for a moment during which Sebastian tried to figure out what this was all about. Normally he was not one to pass up a chance to happily blast a few rounds into anything, nor to showing off a bit – but at the moment he had a bloody burn on his palm. The assumption Jim hadn't noticed was ludicrous - the man noticed everything.

Then Jim leaned closer, with a whisper, a gleam in his eyes and the seductive invitation to impress and inspire.


“Well, then watch, Sir,” he breathed. He walked over to the makeshift stand, adjusted the ear protectors on his head, and put the magazine back into his own weapon.


Standing sideways, he raised the weapon, acquired one of the targets at the end of the range and fired six shots in measured but brisk succession. The bullet holes were tightly grouped, in and around the bull's eye. For someone who knew what he was looking at, that was the impress-me-part, because Sebastian was shooting with his left. Having an injured hand impair your ability to fight was something you never wanted to happen, so with years of training he had made himself nearly ambidextrous - something only few people mastered, because it not only involved the tedious and often frustrating schooling of your non-dominant hand, but also your non-dominant eye.


Then, he shifted into the ideal position, a classical combat shooter's stance. Blistered burn be damned, it was now his right hand that held the gun, the left just stabilising the perfect triangle. The steady barrage continued, ripping the bull's eye to shreds. Maintaining a tight grip on the gun required fierce determination, each recoil hammering into what was agony already. Only when the magazine was empty did he realise he was forcefully breathing through his nose, jaw muscles locked.

He lowered the weapon, and it took a conscious effort to unclench his teeth, and the muscles in his hand - which was wet, because the raised skin over the burn was torn and weeping. There was also a fresh blood stain soaking through the bandage covering the cut from a certain shard of glass...


God, he must be a fucking lunatic. What had happened to his sacrosanct rule of protecting his hands? Well, what or rather who had happened was watching him closely, dark eyes blazing. Sebastian's blazed back, topped off with a with a huge, slightly mad grin.




Jim felt a thrill go through him as Sebastian murmured at him rather seductively, then proceeded to show them how a real soldier shoots a gun.


Oh. God. Yes, he thought, gazing at him. If the other security weren't present, Jim would consider mounting him right then and there. Should he send them to wait outside? he mused, licking his lips.


But no, he wasn't quite ready to be so obvious - not because he gave a flying fuck about what people thought of him, but because he didn't care to divulge anything about his personal life. It was bad enough if he were to cause key members of his security to guess which employee he was railing, but he wasn't about to give away that kind of information to the Kosovan.


Sebastian was very much the exception to that rule, he thought in surprise, and then there wasn't time to ponder this strange phenomenon, because the other security team members were showing off their skills - to Jim and to each other. Jim grew bored of this and waved them back - only to leave them shocked when he got off six shots and managed to get them all into the bull's eye. He did it with far more concentration and less showy coolness than Sebastian had. But just because he had men to do the dirty work for him, didn't mean he wasn't perfectly capable to do it himself... and they should be well aware of this.

They stood staring at him with open mouths - except Steve who smiled knowingly.


"The magic of physics, my dears," Jim said offhandedly. "But now I'm rather bored..."


He twirled the gun around his hand like a gunslinger in a saloon, and pretended to pick them off one by one, then blew pretend smoke from the barrel.

He twirled the gun again, and placed it emphatically down on a table.


"Get the car and take us to an ice cream shop," he said to no one in particular then walked out of the shooting range.




Sebastian always watched closely whenever people were showing off their skills with a weapon, whether they were associates or adversaries. He was pleased by the performance of the rest of the security detail, and downright stunned by Jim's.

So the Idrizi gun range witnessed some very classy shooting that day, as well as five grown men flinching – at least inwardly – at their boss’s outrageous little cowboy stunt at the end. Standing beside Loran, Sebastian's hand warningly tightened on the arm of the man, who looked very close to blowing up.


“Don't-“ Sebastian muttered under his breath, and managed to prevent an outburst just long enough until Jim had strolled off.


Loran was livid. “You are kidding me, right?! Is the little fucker out of his mind?!“


Don't –“ Sebastian cut in again, “- say anything. I know. Gun safety isn't anything he's ever heard of...” Or cared for, more like...


Loran's face was a picture of incredulity, looking at the man who'd drilled the handling of guns into him and his comrades a decade ago and would have dressed anybody down for this sort of reckless behaviour. “You're putting up with that?!“


With Jim out of sight, Sebastian let go of Loran's arm. “Not. One. Word.”


There wasn't any further explanation he cared to give. They followed the others, who had already filed out after Jim to where their car was waiting, freshly minted plates and all.


Sebastian clapped a hand on Loran's back with a crooked smile.

“I’ll get back to you about those guns. You heard him - we have important places to be…”

Next stop: ice cream parlour.




Jim waited in the car as the other members of his security team piled in. "Oh, Sebastian..." Jim said in a cheerful voice. "I think it would be a lovely thank you to your Kosovan friend to buy a good-sized shipment of his wares. And if we're happy with his work, he can become one of our suppliers," Jim said graciously. "Let him know and make the arrangements…"





"I already did, Sir,” Sebastian said. "I told him we'd place an order for weapons..." For a moment he just stared back at Jim, seemingly not inclined to get out of the car again. Which, he realized, would be blatant disrespect and whatever had happened in that alternative reality of Jim's penthouse, it did not belong here, certainly not with other employees present.


So, he added tersely, "but I'm happy to confirm this with him…." He then pushed open the car door and got out.




Jim looked over his sunglasses at Sebastian who stared at him disbelief. "Don't worry, we'll wait for you," Jim said absentmindedly as he returned to staring at his phone, and waved him off.

"Moran!" Jim lowered the window a crack and called sharply after him, and Sebastian returned, his face neutral.


"Make that... two minutes starting now. If you want ice cream, you'd better move your arse," Jim grinned at him, and rolled up the window.


He snickered at the stunned look on Sebastian's face as he returned to looking his phone. His eyes flickered up to Steve's and for a split second, he actually felt frozen. Then he remembered who he was, and raised his eyebrows at Steve, who nodded slightly and stared straight ahead.


"Better start choosing your flavours, my dears," Jim sang. "Estimated departure: 90 seconds..."




There was no reason to get riled up, Sebastian kept telling himself. Everyone in Jim Moriarty's employ was used to this kind of capricious, bitchy and erratic behaviour - everyone whose existence the boss deigned to acknowledge, anyway.

There is also no reason to think you're different to him, Moran –


He walked back inside. Well, instead of haring back and forth, he could discuss the gun deal and all it would entail in depth. It wouldn't even go against orders, and it also wouldn't remotely be done in ninety seconds, after which the car would undoubtedly leave, on the dot. He’d watch it go, have Loran break out a few beers and sit to have a proper chat. He felt a gleeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the idea – but the smile quickly faded as he realised he would be absolutely aghast at being left behind. Because what would have been an enticing prospect to the Sebastian Moran that Idrizi knew, this one couldn't even think of anything he'd rather be doing but guarding an unpredictable little Irish bastard while wolfing down a fucking ice cream cone...


Loran stalked towards him.

“You're telling me you're letting that... teveqel...”


Sebastian just held up a hand, not unlike he'd done down at the gun range - because if he let him get going, questions would be asked he wouldn't be able to answer in ninety seconds – well, eighty by now – nor did he care to.

“Just listen. Boss wants to deal. We'll take handguns, untraceable as usual, as many of impeccable quality you can come up with in two weeks - a whole fucking crate if you want to, or three, it doesn't really matter. Throw in some Czech C4 while you're at it. Bigger stuff might follow later. And yes, we'll talk about this in detail some time next week, there are a few things you'll have to know…” Not that the man had many choices if Jim chose to do business with him. “I'll pay for the plates then, too...”


Loran, listening with an incredulous face but not interrupting any more, meanwhile had opened the first aid cabinet on the wall of the garage and pulled out two packages, shoving them at him.

“Basher, whatever has happened to your fucking head, or your balls - your hands seem to be the only capital you have left, so at least fucking take care of those.”


Sebastian took the packages. He was running through a lot of first aid supplies lately…

“Aww... sweet as ever. I'll give you a call, I promise.”


Half a minute later, he threw himself into the car that was leaving the yard, and started affixing a dressing with a makeshift bandage to his hand.

“First shipment will be in two weeks,” he stated, and then, looking up at Jim, “strawberry and chilli.”


When they exited the car in front of the 'Motown Café', wearing five dark suits and sunglasses, the man and the woman behind the counter paled – probably imagining themselves as the future casualties of what the newspapers might dub the Hackney Ice Cream Heist.




As Jim replied to an email, he found himself wondering if Sebastian might miss the car leaving out of sheer obstinacy. And Jim could hardly back out now.


(If he comes back after that delicious lunacy, you know he's yours...) the little voice whispered, making him shiver.


Oh, is that what this lunacy was about... Jim asked mildly. Getting him to prove himself?


(Or is it proving something to yourself, darling?)


Twenty seconds, he barked at the voice. I don't need to prove anything.


(Keep telling yourself that, Jimmy... oh look, your Tiger!)


Jim felt a surge of relief seeing Sebastian head for the car, but did not look up when he got in.

Until Sebastian declared his flavour of choice, and he looked up at him in disbelief.


"Strawberry and chilli?" Jim repeated, horrified. "What manner of beast eats strawberry and chilli ice cream?




"One of discerning palate and refined taste,” Sebastian answered loftily. “One that craves a kick and bite in every pleasure…”




Jim eyed him for a moment. “Steve, have you tried this monstrosity?" he demanded.


"No, sir," Steve said, deadpan. "I'm a butterscotch ripple man."


"Well. I don't care for adding chilli, but strawberry is very tasty..." Jim said in an innocent voice. His eyes flickered over Sebastian's, and he smiled slyly.


When they arrived, they lined up in front of the counter.

Jim of course went first, and spoke in a British accent. "Oh, hello! I'll have one scoop chocolate marshmallow, one scoop coffee. In a cup. Chocolate sprinkles." He smiled pleasantly at the woman. "And whatever my associates choose."

He waited while they gave their orders, and Steve silently handed over cash.


Steve chose butterscotch, as he had said. Terry asked for a caramel swirl. Mike selected cookies and cream. And Sebastian asked for and received his strawberry and chilli.


Jim insisted they eat their ice cream outside. "Oh, it's so charming - the tables and chairs, the sidewalk café! Exactly where one would sit when they had absolutely nothing to hide, yes?"


And so, five men in sunglasses and dark suits sat outside eating ice cream cones as if they had absolutely nothing to hide.


"Might I have a bite, Moran?" Jim asked, innocently. "If you don't mind..."




Soon they were sitting around one of the tables outside, basking in the sun, everyone satisfied with their flavour of choice, and looking like a Cosa Nostra company outing. Four men with ice cream cones (one hand free, good bodyguards that they were) the fifth eating his daintily from a cup, with a little pink spoon.


Sebastian didn't find it easy to just look back innocently, even for the sake of professionalism, when Jim had made allusions to strawberries earlier. And now when he wanted to try a bite of the spiced-up version, it was even more difficult...


"Not at all... " He leaned towards Jim and held out his ice cream courteously. "A lick or a bite, be my guest, boss. " He hoped he still sounded sufficiently innocent.




Jim glanced at the ice cream cone, and stared at Sebastian over his sunglasses. Not breaking his gaze, he leaned over slightly so that his face couldn't be seen by anyone but Sebastian. He held out his spoon, and swirled it around the soft pink ice cream until he'd captured a heaping mound. Then he slowly, sensually licked the ice cream off the spoon. He flicked his tongue to capture the remains on the spoon before running his tongue over his lips. He straightened up and blinked innocently at Sebastian.


"Oh! Rather nice for a monstrosity, my dear," he said in a lazy voice. "Who knew strawberries could have so much... heat?"


He crossed his leg over his knee, and went back to eating his chocolate marshmallow scoop. "The problem is now it's all I can taste..." he remarked rather archly. "A rather presumptuous quality in an ice cream, I'd say... Would you agree, Steve?"


He began typing on his phone.


Steve huffed. "As you say, Sir..."


Jim sent a text to Sebastian:


A car will be waiting at your home - get in or not, the choice is yours.


Then despite other people sitting around them, he started playing loudly on his phone "Don't Keep Me Waiting" by Miss Britney Spears. After a couple of moments, he tossed the remains of his ice cream in the bin, stood up and headed for the car. Immediately, the security team followed suit and people watched agape as cone after cone went flying into the bin, and within a moment, the car and the intimidating team were gone.





Whoever ended up in Jim Moriarty's security detail would be neither deaf nor blind. So, to start rumours, there was no need for Sebastian to go bragging...


At the moment no-one could see his face but Jim, whom Sebastian watched with half-closed eyes... the spoon, his mouth, his tongue... Jesus, it was totally outside his power to not react to all the little innuendos, to not play along with the teasing… even mixed up as they were with a very Jim brand of deliberate obnoxiousness... which Sebastian found to be vexing and utterly thrilling.


A tiny smile played around Sebastian's mouth when he returned to taking big swipes off his ice cream with his tongue, as he listened to Jim's verdict of his preferred flavour - reluctant praise, chased by a petulant complaint that it spoiled the palate for all the sweeter, more conventional flavours.


While Jim was typing away at his phone, Sebastian needed all the restraint he could muster to just keep eating, looking unconcerned, and not dive into his pocket when his phone dinged. Britney started to warble one of those songs that Sebastian wouldn’t have been surprised to discover had been commissioned for a changeable little psychopath - who now decided in the blink of an eye that, with the taste of his own ice cream spoiled, treat-time was over for everybody. And everybody wisely took their cue and scrambled after him – only Sebastian devoured the rest of his cone in three bites on the way to the car. The aftermath - a brief but intense cluster headache - was certainly less painful than the act of binning his ice cream.


Back in the car and en route, he checked his text message and the ensuing rush of heat woke up his body, even while the frontal lobe of his brain remained momentarily frozen.

... the choice is yours...


As if there would be any choice, he thought... ever again.

To what would he return? Anything... anyone would be as bland as a scoop of marshmallow or vanilla in comparison...

He was about to type a reply to that effect - and didn't.

He was about to jokingly type the question whether he should bring an overnight bag - and didn't.

He realised his eyes had stayed on Jim's as he was thinking - and there they remained while he put the phone back into his pocket… as though signifying to Jim, ‘You know the answer already'.


His pulse was hammering a heavy, thrilling beat in his throat, his stomach, his groin... He stared out of the window all the way back to Wapping, where he was dropped off so he could collect his car.

In front of his apartment building he lit a cigarette and walked over to the black BMW that waited unconcerned beside a 'no waiting' sign, and tapped against the roof.


"Twenty minutes,” he informed the driver.


After which he came back, showered and changed – and with no overnight bag, he got in.




As he walked towards the car, Jim heard the thump of cones hitting the bin - one, two, three - and nothing more. Only muffled crunching sounds. Jim shook his head as he got into the car. Of course Sebastian had to finish his cone... he had a rather voracious appetite, his soldier. And not just for ice cream...

This is what he was thinking of when Sebastian climbed in and sat across from him…

And waited for him to read his texts…

And blatantly stared at him when he looked up.

When their eyes met, it felt like an inferno was about to sweep through the car's interior. Jim was this close to snapping at everyone to get the fuck out.

But he had already been overt enough about his interest in Sebastian the last few days, considering normally nobody could ever read him. Even that arrogant git of a detective, Sherlock. But Steve was onto them, and it needed to stop there. Steve was a locked box, but if Jim had to kill the two in the front, he would.

So instead of signing their death warrant by ordering an evacuation of the car, Jim merely sat and stared with the hunger of a wolf who hadn't taken down prey in days.

One and a half days, he corrected himself mildly. And need I remind you of the importance of getting this cute little obsession under control...?


(Ohhh...) the voice whispered. (Just - look - at - him... he wants you...)


Of course he does, darling, Jim whispered back. I know what I'm doing…


Indeed, the look in Sebastian's eye was anything but coy... apparently, he wasn't even going to bother with a response. Everything Jim needed to know was right there on his face...


The rest of the car ride was in silence. After everyone was dropped off, Jim conferred quietly with Steve for several moments. Then he left and entered his building without another word.


Inside his penthouse, Jim looked at the contents of his closet. Not bothering to change, he set aside his jacket and tie for dry-cleaning pick-up, and unfastened his top shirt buttons. He gave instructions to the concierge to send Sebastian up directly. He brought out a decanter of whisky, and poured two glasses. It wasn't his usual brand, but Jim only bought the stuff for whisky sours – to drink it neat required something even more expensive, so he'd had it delivered.

He stopped to consider this, mid-pour - for a moment, he considered throwing the decanter set off the balcony. Then he smiled and continued pouring. His appetite for chaos had been whetted today, but no longer for the destructive variety. For the moment, he had his sights set on a different kind of chaos. His eyes flickered over his phone lying on the counter. Then he took his glass and threw himself on the sofa, staring at the view.


(He's coming to you...) his voice sang softly. (Can you feel it?)


Swallowing the fiery liquid, Jim leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes. I could feel it while he was still in the car... he thought, feeling his body heating up.


(I know how to keep him bound to you,) the little voice sang sweetly. (I've had a clever little idea... and it's going to be such a lovely surprise...)


Jim's eyes opened. I suppose I'll find out when the time is right for a lovely surprise... A smile played on his lips, and he sipped his whisky as he waited for Sebastian's impending return.




Afternoon traffic on the way to Mayfair provided Sebastian with rather a lot of time to think - which was... not exactly welcome. Because not even a leisurely road trip to Timbuktu would have been long enough to get a handle on all this... When had there ever been anyone who just needed to snap their fingers to make him jump so eagerly? When had he ever been prepared to not just accept the possibility of physical damage to himself (something he'd accepted a long time ago), but to inflict it on himself due to someone pulling an outrageously reckless stunt just for fun? But all this paled in comparison to that irresistible turn-on to give carte blanche to the most unpredictable and dangerous man he had ever met - to just let him do to him whatever he wanted...

And he wasn't sure what had his blood racing more: to come to him not knowing what that might be, like he had two days ago; or now, after he'd already had a glimpse of the deep dark woods...


The concierge - it was Simon - didn't even ask his name, but just waved him over to the elevator, probably very relieved the guest of Mr Blaidd had more clothes on him than the last time he'd seen him. Sebastian just smiled, but there was the same jump and lurch in his stomach as the elevator whizzed him up.

The door of the penthouse flat was open, just like last time - and this time Sebastian walked right in - on his guard but not like entering enemy territory...




Jim heard quiet footfalls and the door swishing closed. He smiled, still sitting and facing the window.


"Sebastian," he said lazily. "What a pleasant surprise... Help yourself to a whisky - on the table."

He took a sip of his own. "At the end of a work day, I'm more likely to pour a nice Riesling, but this has a certain enjoyable - heat."

He heard Sebastian pour himself a glass, and stood up - still staring out the window.


"First day back together since our little entanglement..." he mused. "I'd say it went well. Steve aside, I don't think anyone suspected. Business as usual, no?"

He turned to look at Sebastian, his eyes glittering. Putting down his glass, he walked over to Sebastian, and looked him up and down.


"A very successful deception," he purred. "Who would suspect the terrible things we did..." He leaned closer, breathing in his scent. "The terrible things we'll do," he whispered. He plucked the glass out of Sebastian's hand, and put it down on the table. Then he opened up his arms, smiling fiercely.


"Go on, then…" he purred. "Give your boss a little kiss hello..."




Two days had passed since their little development, which Sebastian could still feel with every inch of his body, inside and out, deeper than mere cuts through flesh and skin, and more permanent than welts and bruises. The man who'd accomplished this sat on the sofa, surveying his city, not even turning around. Yet the smooth voice drawling his name seemed to curl around Sebastian as physically as dark possessive flames of scorching heat. His black glittering gaze - when he finally did look at him – held such hypnotic power and knowledge. Yes, he knew him... and somehow this felt ten times headier and more breathtaking than the fiery path of whisky Sebastian let burn through him... When Jim stood and drew closer, every word he purred renewed those invisible strands, winding and pulling them tighter, deeper...


"Yes, that went well…” Sebastian was slowly prowling towards Jim too, until they were well inside each other's space. The small hairs at the back of his neck rose with a tingle. They were both quite still for a moment, a precariously fine line just shy of leaping at each other.

"Although I don't remember anything terrible...” Sebastian's voice was low and slightly roughed up from necking the rest of his drink. There was also the hint of a smile, and the telltale lower pitch that came with arousal and anticipation... And by now they were so close they could smell it off each other.


A little hello kiss? Sebastian let out a soft noise between a purr and a growl, carefully hooking his fingers into the waistband of Jim's trousers... slowly pulling him even closer.


"You don’t mean a peck on the cheek, do you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against Jim's. The tip of his tongue traced the little cut on Jim’s lip, still healing – Sebastian set his teeth against it as if to tear it open again... And while this had Jim sufficiently distracted, his arm had snaked around his waist, and then he really kissed him. Hell, it had been an order, who was he to not comply?


The order had not entailed backing Jim slowly but surely into the closest wall... that had just happened on its own.





The way his soldier stalked toward him was thrilling... more than enough to shut up that part of Jim's brain that was demanding to know why'd he told Sebastian to kiss him...

Also thrilling was the way Sebastian was looking at him hungrily.... so hungrily...

and still careful to only do what he was told to do...

pulling him closer...


touching his lips with his own...


grabbing him, and then...



He barely even noticed they were moving, and suddenly he was pressed against a wall.



He pulled away from the kiss, eyes blazing. Then he grabbed Sebastian by the shirt, and pushed him forward. He kissed him hard, and suddenly they were bumping into things - a chair, a desk.

Jim kept pushing forward and Sebastian sat hard on the desk.

Jim climbed up to straddle him. Things were falling off the desk as he kissed him hungrily.


"Don't think I didn't notice what happened in the boardroom," he growled, his hands twisting in Sebastian's hair. "Having fun, were you?"



Permission to kiss seemed to have been revoked, with Jim furiously fisting his hands into his shirtfront and pushing... Sebastian's hands stayed where they were, never letting go of Jim. A chair fell over and little side table too, as they stumbled towards the desk, slamming into it - or rather Sebastian did, Jim slamming into him… Sebastian managed to disentangle his right foot from the cable of the desk lamp, only to knock the doomed thing to the ground with his elbow when Jim was suddenly up and upon him - straddling him, yanking his head back with a grip that nearly made his eyes water. Sebastian bucked up against the weight of the sexy little fucker... the sexy, possessive little fucker. Then something possessed Sebastian to answer the accusation of misconduct with a smile.


"'Happened' is such an exaggeration..." he panted slightly as the hand in his hair tightened, his grin now about as wide (and as innocent) as a shark's. "I was just... being friendly."




Jim watched a smile spread across Sebastian's face, and had to stop himself from laughing in shock.

Think this is a fun little game, do you? he thought, eyes narrowing. Well, fun little games are my domain.


"Honey... do I strike you as someone who likes to share?" Jim cooed, before slamming his shoulders down onto the desk. Sebastian barked out in pain, and Jim smiled with feral pleasure.


"Oh! What was that? Could that be someone's mark?" he murmured, and dove down onto his lips to kiss him with fury. "Do you want to be mine, or don't you?" he snapped, his hands tightening in Sebastian's hair.




After the initial shock, the pain morphed into a surge of heat, rushing south... Fuck – so much for not being obvious.


"You know l do," Sebastian panted into the kiss. He already was his, and they both knew it. Knew it since the journey into the deep dark woods, the night of foundations cracking and shifting, that night of fire and blood and surrender... followed by a vague reference to future invitations.


His cut-up back, pressed against the hard, polished wood reminded him that the answer was written there in four stark bloody lines. And yet, still breathless, he heard himself ask, "Care to elaborate a bit... Sir?"


Did it entail... not even smiling at other people?

Celibacy between invitations?


He looked up at Jim, teeth still slightly bared, eyes bright… feeling intoxicated, even reckless…

"Or do I strike you as someone who would follow rules that haven't even been issued?”




Jim gazed down at Sebastian, noting his arousal, his desire, and also his longing, that drove him to such recklessness.


Interesting, he thought, strangely captivated by the demand to define their relationship. Very interesting...


"Sebastian... did I hear you correctly?" Jim placed a hand delicately next to his ear, and looked comically confused. "Are you asking for rules?"


He placed a hand on Sebastian's chest. "Very well, darling... I'm happy to oblige. You're mine. So, in the absence of rules, use your head about what you think I'd like. If you get it wrong, you'll fucking know it..." Jim stared down at him on the desk.


"But as for rules, what do you bloody think?" he snapped. "That you can flirt with people in front of me? That you can sleep with other people? And yes, I know they instigated it - trust me when I say, dearest - that will not save you if I see that again." His hand tightened on Sebastian's jaw.


"Sebastian..." he whispered. "A royal feast is being offered to you in a great hall... do you share a crust of stale bread with a trashy servant? Or do you Fuck. The. King." he snarled at him, leaning down over him - he then pushed Sebastian's head back and slowly licked his neck. "Well, Tiger?" he murmured, licking under his jaw.




Sebastian made a helpless noise... it came from the part of him that look at himself with the same incredulity as Jim did. But unlike Jim it was less intrigued, than shaken at what he found - Sebastian Moran (he of the congenital rule aversion disorder) had just asked for them. Rules. Which not only said quite a lot about the man he wanted them from, but also about the state of turmoil he himself was in. Like being lost at sea, looking up at a night sky of constellations that were totally alien to him. As alien as the concept of him submitting to anyone…

And now as Jim leaned over him, Sebastian realised he bloody wanted him to put a chain around his neck, take a knife to his back and fuck him against every piece of furniture in this bloody five-acre flat... Fucking hell, it was understandable that he would grasp at anything for some sense of orientation...

Sebastian was aware of his heart hammering – and feeling skewered between the hand on his chest and the blazing mark on his back. It felt bizarrely reassuring...

Eyes still on Jim's, he swallowed.


In hindsight, his request for further specification seemed a bit daft. His eyes half closed as he allowed Jim's hand on his jaw to push his head back. Feeling his hot breath and his tongue on his throat... God, he'd never even want to go near stale bread again.


"- the king, of course..."


Pressing up against the strong, supple body above him, Sebastian’s hand snaked along the collar of Jim's shirt.


"And I assume this is a one-way arrangement?” he mumbled. His fingers skimmed past the top open buttons and then finding the next one down fastened, hooked behind it and pulled...




A button popped off Jim's shirt and he listened incredulously as it clattered across the floor.

"Oh, you do love to play with fire, don't you?" he said, his eyes flashing.

And he yanked Sebastian's shirt open, not breaking his stare as buttons went flying and skittering across the desk and onto the floor. The shirt was then violently pulled down over his broad shoulders as Jim's lips sought out Sebastian's.


"Of course the maker of rules isn't beholden to them," he growled when he broke off the kiss. "But I've been so bored by ordinary little humans for so long... you'll just have to keep my interest, darling..." and he stared at him in open challenge.




"And anything else would bore you out of your fucking mind, wouldn't it? " Sebastian hissed when his shirt was torn off his shoulders without much regard to any injuries and bandages. He briefly struggled to free his arms during a violent, somewhat uncoordinated kiss... And yes, it might indeed turn out to be a challenge to keep Jim's interest. Keeping to the rules was imperative (for him only, which he huffed at) but following them to a T... where was the fun in that? He finally managed to fling his shirt to the side while keeping one hand focused on popping more buttons.


"I could sew them back on afterwards… would you like that?” he asked, batting his eyelashes at Jim sweetly. Then without much effort or any warning, he heaved himself off the desk, rolling to the side. Jim was duly unseated, but somewhat steadied when Sebastian grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and yanked it off.




Sebastian was a whirlwind of activity, and suddenly Jim found himself standing again, now without a shirt.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. He was far too impatient to secure him, far too overcome with lust to discipline him... yet. Instead he launched himself at Sebastian, and they went flying against a floor lamp, toppling it and each other onto the floor.

Jim landed hard onto Sebastian who once again yelped with pain on impact. They turned and watched as the lamp bounced against a side table before smashing spectacularly onto the floor.


"Careful," Jim snapped. "That was an antique..."


He leaned down over Sebastian, and they stared at each other.

Then they pounced on each other, kissing feverishly and pawing at each other's trousers.




Glowing pale skin… the lean perfection of muscles, tensing quickly, so deliciously alive and dangerous...

Jesus fucking Christ... this was what Sebastian had really been thinking of, when smiling at the two dolts in the boardroom - to get his hands on that fucking pristine suit, and subsequently on what was underneath... And now he growled in pleasure as he did, while being tackled by the little devil. They crashed down with an involuntary yelp of pain from Sebastian. And while Jim seemed to prefer some of his possessions a little banged up, he complained about the fucking lamp they had taken down with them.


Sebastian cared as much about the fate of the lamp as if it had been from Ikea. He snorted, and tried to get Jim's trousers off without any more collateral damage. Jim had yanked his, together with his underwear, already halfway down his hips and Sebastian kicked himself out of the impeding tangle. He already was achingly hard and made a low, appreciative sound when he finally managed to free Jim's equally ardent erection. He dove down and ran his tongue along it - head to balls. No way he would be getting up again, in search of fucking lube…




Jim snapped his fingers and pointed to the desk.


"Desk drawer," he panted. "Centre one."


He watched as Sebastian went to the desk and peered into the drawer. He then pulled out the small tube and returned looking like every inch a predator. Jim gazed at his muscular form, slowly and quietly padding towards him... gazing at him like he wanted to devour him.


"There's lube stashed in every room of the flat," Jim remarked grandly. "Tigers really do leave their mark everywhere..."


He looked up at Sebastian from where he waited on the floor. On a whim, he got up and moved towards him. They sped up and when they met they were reaching for each other. Jim yanked his head down and pulled him down into a crushing kiss.


Then he started walking Sebastian backwards towards the sofa. His hands snaked down his back, digging his nails in by the time they reached his arse. Then he fondled his arse, and yanked his pelvis towards his as he pulled him onto the sofa.




Alright, he was wrong: when Jim snapped his fingers, he did go and fetch the lube... From a posh desk which had probably seen a lot of things in its time, but this?


“There's … what?” - in every bloody room? Sebastian couldn't suppress a grin. “Premeditated lube-stashing...?” he breathed. “Quite sure I would come, weren't you?”


Who was he kidding – as if there had never been any other option…


He picked his way through the pieces of antique glass, back towards Jim, and in the next moment they were entangled in each other again, kissing, tumbling down onto the sofa.


Sebastian groaned at the mix of exquisite sensations and didn't know what he wanted to press himself against harder – the possessive hands on his arse, sharp nails digging into the welts from the cane, or their cocks sliding against each other...

With his bandaged hand he clicked the little tube open and shoved it at Jim, while his other hand raked across Jim's shoulder. Then he sank his teeth into the reddening skin, nearly breaking it, but not quite.


“God...” he ground out a curse that sounded downright desperate. They were both panting by now. “... what are you waiting for?”




Jim narrowed his eyes and pushed him away.


“Get on your knees,” he snapped, “lean over the sofa…”


Sebastian complied and Jim took a moment to admire his muscular body waiting to be plundered… so anxious to be taken he would deign to make demands of Jim Moriarty…


Jim watched as Sebastian turned his head and looked back at him. He found his breath catching in his throat for a moment at those blue eyes, hungry and waiting… and then he shook himself and spread lube on his fingers and cock. Then he slid a finger into Sebastian’s arse… closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the muscles squeeze around him. He added a second and then third finger, and worked him in enough that Sebastian was moaning with his movements.


“You remember now, don’t you?” he whispered by his soldier’s ear. “You open for me so beautifully, darling…” He removed his fingers, noting Sebastian’s shiver.


He waited poised at Sebastian’s opening, and pushed in slightly. He found himself strangely compelled to say ridiculous things like I’ve missed you and it’s been forever and never stay away for so long again… but he squashed this impulse, and breathed, “Mine, Tiger…”

Jim surged partway into him, paused, and waited for his muscles to adjust. He realized they were both trembling.

Enough of this, he thought, and pushed in the rest of the way. He collapsed against his back, groaning.


“Oh fuck-“ (I’ve missed you) “Tiger…” he panted, and then began to rock against him.




Sebastian was in no state to think anymore, but his body’s chain of command was working without a functioning mind... and it had him slide off the sofa and down into what felt like the most natural position to be in, recently… As if, for the first time in his life - his body awaited orders, craved them, as long as they were issued by that intoxicating little bastard.


Realising he'd been looking at him over his shoulder, Sebastian let out a deep breath at the first touch and faced forward again. He didn't even try to stifle a moan, when lube-slicked fingers trailed down the crack of his arse, and slipped in, preparing him... with an unerring intuition, of how much was just enough. To not take away that last whisper of pain which brought such a delicious edge to the pleasure, when Jim's cock finally, slowly pushed in...

Sebastian shivered - as much an involuntary reaction to physical sensation as to the low, whispered words into his ear.


“Yes...” Jesus fucking god, yes. He remembered. As he had been remembering since two nights ago – during every minute of every fucking waking moment. And probably in his bloody dreams, too.

Mine, Tiger.


With the first slow push inside, Sebastian felt his body adjusting to and welcoming the intrusion, Then came the next push, more insistent… closing his eyes, breathing heavily, Sebastian dropped his head slightly forwards. His hands gripped the back of the sofa, where they stayed, as if in invisible restraints.


His knees slid a bit further apart, allowing, encouraging that final thrust to go as deep as possible, and when it did, he exhaled with a low, raw sound that seemed to rise from regions solely ruled by primeval instinct.




For a moment Jim's full weight was on him, and Sebastian pressed back into it. They both

trembled, as though suspended between the poles of a powerful charge. The world shrunk to sensation, heat, lust, want...



Yes – this. THIS. Just MORE. Fuck...


And Jim, one arm around Sebastian's chest, did just that. Slow, rocking movements at first.

Sebastian groaned, and after a blink, started to push back.

This - wouldn't last long.

They wouldn't last long…




Jim let out a shuddering sigh. God. Fuck

It was no less exciting this time… In fact, there was an urgency he had not expected, couldn’t have foreseen, because in what universe did he want someone like this!

So as he rocked his hips against Sebastian, driving his cock deeply into him, Jim let out a series of groans and grunts that would have infuriated him were Sebastian not making similar sounds.


Jim threw caution to the wind, and let go in a primal frenzy against Sebastian’s body.

There would be time for finesse later… and other nights, he thought with a thrill of pleasure. Right now, he needed to re-claim his territory.


His arms tightened around Sebastian’s chest, and he began to stroke his cock slowly.




Jim took what was his and Sebastian – who would have roared with laughter (or pulled a gun) at anyone merely thinking of fucking him with such an assertion of dominance – was literally gagging for it. On his knees no less, Jim’s cock inside him, his sharply jutting hipbones rutting against Sebastian’s arse - the sweeping current towards climax already gathering momentum…

God... for a moment he felt like he was going to lose it, like a fucking teenager. But luckily, he'd never been prone to coming at the drop of a hat. He was nearly painfully hard, his cock wet with precum, but he'd be able to stick to The Rules, as long as Jim didn't ...


And in that very moment, Jim did exactly that - closed a hand around his cock - and all bets were off. Sebastian jerked as if touched by a live wire, into the grip of the strong arm around his chest. He groaned, screwing his eyes shut.


“Don't - I might not...” His voice was thick, desperate, forced through clenched teeth. A barely intelligible grunt.

But of course Jim did...

Or rather didn't.

Already fighting a lost cause, Sebastian still struggled to hold off, panting, gripping the back of the sofa harder - epic mistake - the jolt of pain from his injured hand lit up nerve-endings already firing... Two, three more harsh thrusts, coupled with the firm, slow hand on his cock were enough to hurl him over the edge into an orgasm of shattering intensity… his ears filled with feral noises being breathed against the back of his neck… his nose filled with the dizzying scent of sex and JimJimJim...


This was forever going to be the day he had broken the first commandment, although not deliberately. Was it cute that he tried to be silent while it happened? As if there was even a snowflake's chance in hell that Jim, hand around his cock, wouldn't notice...




Jim heard Sebastian's 'warning', and blithely ignored it. He knew the Rules.

Then his eyes narrowed as he felt the unmistakable sensations of... really?

His annoyed sigh was lost in his panting as Sebastian had a shuddering orgasm and came against the sofa.

Well, that was Jim's fault in term of placement, really... but how often was he going to have to replace furniture and carpeting?? Sebastian would now suffer consequences for several reasons, and he would not get what he likely expected as punishment...


Jim continued to thrust... soon it would get uncomfortable for Sebastian, having just come - but this was hardly Jim's concern.

Instead he stretched it out for as long as possible, but in the end, it was just too good... not only the sex, but the thought of what was in store for his dear Tiger... who moaned as Jim's speed and intensity increased.


He came with a series of hard thrusts and a shout, shivering against Sebastian's body.

Then he collapsed against him, both of their bodies damp with sweat.

After he caught his breath, he pulled out and sat hard against the floor. Sebastian joined him.


Jim looked over at him. "You know what you did..." he said simply, still panting. "And you know there will be consequences... Dinner?" he asked brightly. "There was a delivery today to replace you eating half the contents of the refrigerator. I'm sure you can throw something together for us... after we shower." He stayed where he was, staring at Sebastian and not getting up.




The last spasms of a blinding release were subsiding, drenched with, and then drained of endorphins - what Sebastian was left with was an increasingly overwrought hypersensitivity, screaming in protest, for shut-down, for respite.

Panting, pressing his forehead against his arms, he bit back a moan, not wanting to give the satisfaction... to Jim, who was of course prolonging this, holding back, fucking him into discomfort and beyond and there was nothing remotely enjoyable about it.

Well... there shouldn’t have been...

And yet, even being treated like this (and most likely it wasn't even the beginning of the punishment he'd just earned), Sebastian again started to feel twitches of arousal, like sparks flitting, connecting along what was, by all accounts the twisted and misconnected wiring of a masochist...

Jim pushing, pounding into him with no regard to anything but his own pleasure... only added to that... And fucking hell, hearing him shout, feeling him shudder and come


Listening to Jim's still ragged breathing and catching his own, while flopped over the sofa, Sebastian kept his eyes closed and his face carefully expressionless. With equal concentration he tried to will away the fact that he'd become partly erect again during the ordeal. And while he was at it, maybe he could also hypnotise Jim into not noticing...

Not because he was embarrassed, but because of a certain uneasy feeling that this time he might really be in deep shit. He knew he had gotten away with a lot so far, but only on Jim-whims, not because his boss was lenient per se. Obedience was expected as a matter of course rather than a possibility. The question if it had been in his power to comply, didn't even feature in that simple equation.

So, yes, he knew there would be consequences…

He listened to Jim, then cracked one eye open, at the suggestion of dinner. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.


“Absolutely,” he replied as lightly as Jim had suggested it.

But nobody would be bringing it to them, and so he finally got up from the floor, somewhat labouriously. Jim eyed him with interest.

Yes, his body's chemicals had eventually taken a dive and he felt fucking sore. Someone else probably felt fucking pleased about that, and was still not moving.

Sebastian held out a hand to him. His heart was suddenly in his throat and he didn't even try to pinpoint why -


“Careful,” he said a bit sheepishly, “there's glass everywhere.”




Jim gave an exaggerated sigh. "You don't say, Sebastian..."


He extended his hand for Sebastian to help him up - the move managed to be the height of elegance and grace, considering he was naked, sweaty and dishevelled - and had just been pounding away at Sebastian's arse, moaning and cursing a blue streak... but he remained unselfconscious as always. Jim regarded him, his hand still held in Sebastian's. Then he stared down at their clasped hands, and removed his smoothly.


"Enjoyed yourself quite a bit, didn't you?" he said archly. He turned and headed to the bathroom upstairs. "Do keep up, Tiger," he drawled, not looking behind him. "Time and tide wait for no man."


He tamped down on his fury at being so blatantly disobeyed. Discipline, like vengeance, was sometimes a dish best served cold. Jim dearly loved catching people off guard, so truly it would be a treat. But this didn't lessen the cold anger that was vibrating through him... not one bit.

Later, he whispered to himself. Clearly there was still some work to be done when it came to disciplining his lovely new plaything.




Even while this seemed to be shaping up into an increasingly precarious situation (for him), Sebastian couldn't help but savour the brief grip of Jim's hand, coupled with the display of a dancer's grace and beauty, which had Jim was on his feet in one fluid motion ...

Cold disapproval radiated off him in dark waves. Sebastian had felt this before – after his transgression in the study. Which had nearly had gotten him thrown out, before slipping into a physical altercation, which then transitioned into a playful brawl and from there... a delightful sexual resolution. This time, though – there were no signs of playfulness...

Becoming aware of Jim pointedly staring at their clasped hands, Sebastian let go.


“Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...” he trailed off, as there was clearly no point in excuses, justified or otherwise. He had broken a primary rule. There was a jab of annoyance – with himself, and also with the utter unfairness of the situation. Which he recognized was a silly concept best done away with when choosing to getting entangled with Jim Moriarty…


Sebastian lifted his chin slightly, feeling a flash of rebellion (quickly tamped down) and still, that hint of arousal. And although Jim's low, snide remark about how much Sebastian had enjoyed himself had definitely not been a question he was seeking an answer to, he confirmed.


“Exceptionally so.”

Might have had something to do with you jacking me off while railing me, bent over a sofa, Sebastian thought, but he was not suicidal enough to point that out.




Despite the feeling that this time he'd really stepped in it, the only thing he really dreaded was being sent home. As long as Jim didn't start that rigmarole again, then anything else just rolled off Sebastian's shoulders. Like water off the fur of his namesake.


Or so he told himself…

Following Jim up the stairs (four behind was the distance best suited for admiring his beautiful back and arse), and into the bathroom, the kind of simmering silence was already starting to get to him. Fucking hell, Moran!


Jim stepped into the shower, and Sebastian followed, after he'd found a role of bin-liners, torn one off and put it over his bandaged hand. The dressing on his back he kept reasonably dry by staying at the edge of the blast. (Which also kept him out of the way of the little psychopath currently in a very black mood).




As Jim rinsed off his shampoo, and added conditioner to his squeaky-clean hair, he regarded Sebastian lathering himself up. His cool gaze flickered over Sebastian's wet, plastic-wrapped hand.


"You did rather well today, Sebastian. Professionally speaking... " Jim said in a lazy drawl. "If it's gotten too mental for you, you're welcome to speak to Steve and he'll take you off bodyguard detail. He'd likely be turning bloody backflips in his head..." Jim smiled faintly.


He plucked the bottle of body wash out of Sebastian's hand and sniffed it. "Oh, I rather like this one!" he said with fake cheer. "Good choice, Sebastian! D'you mind?" he handed him back the bottle, and held his arms open. "Don't gloss over the best bits..." he warned. "I want to feel clean and sparkly all over..."

He gazed up at him, eyes gleaming. "I suppose this will be going in your HR report... that your employer has asked you to do terribly inappropriate acts. So unseemly..." Jim whispered, and tilted his head as he stared into Sebastian's eyes.




“Thank you, Sir,” Sebastian replied just as smoothly. “Glad you approve…” And, with the slightest hint of sarcasm, he added, “professionally speaking of course…”


He avoided Jim's gaze for the moment by meticulously washing his hair. “Did that include me taking the gun off you?” He really was curious, because he'd thought to be in deep waters there too. Strangely enough, even though all this had gone down under the nose of other employees, Jim hadn't seemed half as put out by it as he was now, after a transgression happening in private.


What Jim said next had him tensing up. Did he really think that Sebastian couldn't take a bit of mental?! Well, he was quite used to whole other levels of 'mental' on jobs, and he thrived on it. So the offer to leave the bodyguard detail had such a sting to it, Sebastian didn't even deign to answer.

He blinked the water out of his eyes while the body wash was snatched from, and then shoved back into, his hand. His grin returned.

God, the permission to get his hands on Jim... what a treat.


“With pleasure –“ he said, not giving a flying fuck if his own enjoyment was not the intention behind it. He’d ne enjoying every moment…


He picked up a luxurious sponge, as crinkly plastic on his skin probably wasn't the sensation Jim was going for, and this time he didn't break eye contact. Applying the fragrant liquid, he started at Jim's shoulders and arms, moving down to his chest and taut abdomen, washing down suds and foam from pale, gorgeous skin... down being the magic word, working towards … the best bits.


“Can I interest Sir in a ritual foot-bathing?” he asked innocently. This was clearly not the region he was focusing on, as he slowly dropped to his knees.



As Sebastian approached him with the lathered-up sponge Jim noted Sebastian's lit up eyes. Yes, do enjoy yourself darling, he thought lazily as the luxurious swipes of the sponge began.


"As to your question about taking the gun off me... it was a solid professional call on your part. I can appreciate that... I'm not completely mental," Jim said drily. "The best employees are the ones who know how to step in and do what needs to be done... as unobtrusively as possible," he said, his eyes closed and his head dropping back. He let out a half-moan, half-purr as the lathering of his body continued. Fuuuck, he thought in amazement. Why did I never tell anyone to do this before? It's bloody amazing...


Jim barely heard the question Sebastian asked about foot-bathing, and suddenly there was movement in front of him. He opened his eyes and looked down at Sebastian on his knees.


“See something you like?” he asked, ignoring his breath catching in his throat.




“No, I didn't think you were-“ completely mental, Sebastian thought, with a tiny smile. Still professionally speaking...

Sebastian was convinced, that with everything else he could cope... just fine.


Encouraged by that lovely lazy drawl of pleasure from Jim's throat, Sebastian’s eyes travelled down Jim’s body - to say he liked what he saw was an understatement.


“Quite a lot,” Sebastian breathed, following the delicate, now deliciously wet, jet black trail of short hairs guiding him downwards, “and it's perfect.”


There was a bewitching aspect to Jim's physical presence, which occasionally shimmered and shifed into androgyny, but what Sebastian laid his eyes and hands on now, was most decidedly perfect, masculine beauty.


Showing subtle signs of interest again already, Sebastian attended to Jim’s cock, using just a minute amount of the fragrant wash, and his hand rather than the sponge, before switching to his tongue – moving along the head and the shaft, while his fingers cupping Jim's balls, fondling them against each other, then sensuously gliding around them, and behind them...


“Turn around,” he whispered, huskily. “Please….”