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“I could carve my name into your skin.”
The words come, nonchalantly, rolling off of Sebastian’s tongue like water may roll off a ducks back.
They hang in the air, for far too long, tainting what was once a conversation tarnished with jealousy, to a statement drowned in seriousness.
Ominis says nothing, just lets the feeling of Sebastian’s suddenly dangerous fingers, skim against the side of his wrist, against his pulse point, his veins, bringing the blood to the surface in a flush of pink, that scatters across his whole body.
“You know,” Sebastian continues. “To show them who you belong to. That even if they want you, they can’t have you,” he clears his throat, and shifts a little closer on the sofa, to breath his next statement against the side of Ominis’ neck. “To show them that you’re mine.”
The gasp that rises in Ominis’ throat bursts through, much louder than he’d expected. It echoes throughout the Undercroft, bouncing off the stone, reverberating until it settles in the small gap between them.
“I’m-” Ominis fights against the dryness in his throat, pleading with his voice to allow the words to seep through, before they die on his tongue. “-they’d never see it though, would they?”
“No,” Sebastian confirms. He lifts Ominis’ wrist to his lips, and presses a kiss to the inside of it. It’s gentle, loving, and makes all of the hairs on Ominis’ body stand upright. “But we would know,”
“I don’t know,” Ominis sighs. Sebastian’s lips trail upwards, slowly, pushing the cuff of his shirt higher with his thumb, the further his mouth moves. “It would hurt.”
“It would be good pain,” Sebastian mutters, before he sucks a piece of Ominis’ skin between his lips. It’ll leave a bruise, but for now, it causes a breathy moan. “Good pain, and you’d have my name on you forever.”
It’s a tempting idea. Scarred with the word Sebastian. The bumps of each symbol etched on his skin until the day he dies. A mark of ownership. A sign of who he belongs to.
He’s fantasised about much worse.
But still, Ominis is hesitant. Using a wand to slice open skin hurts a lot more than a simple blade. And it’ll have to cut deep, to penetrate into his flesh, marring his body and soul at the same time.
“I could use a knife,” Sebastian says, barely a moment later, as if reading Ominis’ mind. As if he’d crawled inside his head, and read his thoughts like they were a verse, spelled out just for him. “It won’t hurt as much. Might not scar as deeply, but,” he shrugs, then licks a stripe across the skin he’d just sucked upon. “We can always do it again, if it feels good.”
Ominis whines, as Sebastian pulls away, the cool air biting at the warm, wet skin he’d left behind. Ominis shifts closer, unconsciously, his shoulder bumping into the other’s, head dropping low, until their breath combines, a fog of lust and want vibrating between their lips.
“What if it doesn’t?” Ominis questions, voice shaking. He flinches as Sebastian’s hand grazes against his cheek - before he melts into the touch, finding comfort in it, in the moment of cautiousness. “What if it hurts too much?”
“Then I’ll stop.”
Sebastian’s lips brush against his, teasingly close, achingly far away. He doesn’t kiss, just hovers there, until the saliva in Ominis’ mouth threatens to overflow. Until the want becomes far more than he can handle.
“But you won’t want to, will you?”
“I,” Sebastian tilts his head, slotting their lips perfectly together, but still not pressing in close enough. “Only want what you want,” He darts his tongue out to swipe against the plush of Ominis’ bottom lip, like a snake with its prey. “And I can tell you want this."
And then he pulls away, leaving Ominis to try and chase after him, unsuccessfully, too slow and foggy-minded to catch up. There’s emptiness in the space where Sebastian was, but noise coming from where he now stands, a few metres away - just out of reach. Clattering, a spell spoken into the darkness, a foul curse alongside Merlin’s name - and then cold metal pressed into Ominis’ palm.
“I don’t know,” He says after a moment. The blade is cool against his skin. It tempts him. It scares him. Sebastian’s knee slotting between his forces fire under his flesh.
“You don’t need to know,” Sebastian leans down, this time, attaching their lips, for just a second. “You only need to trust me,” The blade disappears from Ominis’ palm, as Sebastian’s weight pushes him down, laying him onto the sofa. “Do you trust me?”
Ominis swallows - hard. His shirt is untucked, pushed up, and over his stomach. A warm hand splayed against his ribs. Another kiss placed upon his mouth. Then his jaw. His neck. Dotted all the way down to where his trousers sit low upon his hips.
“I-” He can’t speak, not with Sebastian where he is, and not when he feels the blunt edge of the knife caress his hip bone, teasing him, filling him with a dull ache, that gathers in his lower abdomen and spreads outwards until he feels like he’s fully ablaze.
“Do you trust me, Ominis?” Sebastian asks again, far more serious. The fingers of his spare hand push below the waist of Ominis’ trousers, hooking into the fabric, and gripping hard.
“Yes,” Ominis nods - he’s not sure whether it’s in response to whether he trusts Sebastian, or a desperate beg for his trousers to be cast aside.
Either way, he hears Sebastian’s lips split wide, into a toothy grin. Terrifying, beautiful, insane: Ominis wants to run, to hide, to escape. He wants to push his clothes away, to be entirely open, to come undone beneath Sebastian’s fingers.
He wants everything.
“Good,” the blade twists in Sebastian’s hand, and presses, sharp-side down, against Ominis’ waist. “Now, keep still, would you? I want to get this just right.”