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tigerjaw:

He began to drink his coffee and put on the electric kettle, setting up the earl grey that Jim preferred for the mornings. Sebastian continued to watch Jim but was fairly sure that the man had gotten over the worst of the poisons with the full nights sleep. He didn’t mind that Jim used his laptop, but just hoped that none of the codes he was working on would be altered accidentally. 

“Fantastic.” Sebastian said, preparing his plate full of bacon, hash browns, a large cheese danish and about half a clutch’s worth of eggs. Jim may not need to eat, but with all the stress and activity in Sebastian’s life he ate for a man nearly twice his size. Besides, he had gone to bed without dinner last night. He leaned against the island, near the buffet so he could get seconds if he wanted, eating with his plate in his hand.

“You know,” He said coming up for air after a few minutes, the kettle startling him. “They brought up pancakes.” Sebastian said, pouring Jim his tea and holding it out to the criminal.

Jim’s head went around like a hunting dog’s.

“What? Where, I didn’t even see them?” He sounded vaguely angry, as though the wait staff had hidden the pancakes to spite him. He accepted the tea mug, holding it with both hands. It was hot, too hot, and it burned his hands but he refused to let it go. Just a little bit of self-punishment, early in the day.

He walked past Sebastian and grabbed the plate, bringing it back over to where the sniper was still leaning on the island. He set it down and smiled brightly up at the taller man.

With a nimble movement of his fingers, he’d stolen the fork from Sebastian’s hand and was already cutting into his pancakes. He often forgot to eat, or disdained eating, or sometimes even threw up after he ate just from thinking about the whole digestion process. But pancakes…especially good pancakes, were some sort of balm for his troubled, blackened soul. He would always eat them, always pause in whatever he was doing and eat them. Sometimes it was the only fuel keeping him going. That and tea and San Pellegrino limonata.

“Did you order these, or did they just send them up?” he asked curiously, peering at the other man out of the corner of his eyes.

tigerjaw:

Jim was looking up at him greedily. 

“Say something.”

Sebastian just watched as Jim continued to manhandle him. He knew that he was taller, stronger, and could kill Jim in more ways than even the mastermind could imagine, but he let himself be tugged and undressed anyway, allowed Jim to move him and adjust him as the other man felt fit. Because he was Jim’s. And that was just how it was with them. 

He resisted smiling, although a small twitch was elicited out of the right corner of his mouth as Jim stripped off his shirt with a flourish. Sebastian watched as Jim’s eyes flicked over his scars, tracing the shapes and shifts they outlined and made on his body. He had no idea what Jim was thinking and could only dare to guess about the mans next addition to the canvas he had roped into his possession. 

Then Jim put his hands on Sebs hips, his fingers splayed over this lower torso and Sebastian’s eyelids dropped, although his eyes found Jims. His own hand twitched by his side and he wanted for a second to wrap his arm around Jim’s torso and throw him on the bed, or on the ground or against the wall. His eyelids fluttered a bit as he imagined the angry surprise, the sound of teeth on teeth or head against headboard. 

“I said tell me what you’re thinking,”

The order came out on velvet tones and Sebastian took less than a second to answer. 

“After tonight I don’t think they’ll let us make reservations here again.” He muttered, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss to the very corner of Jim’s mouth, holding it for a second or two before pulling away.  He was smiling only slightly, his hands had drifted  behind him, clasping together in classic military fashion as he did so. 

“An hour and fifteen minutes sir.” Seb said softly, gently reminding Jim of the task at hand. 

Jim reached up and slapped Sebastian quickly.

“I know how to fucking tell time, Moran,” he hissed. For him it was sometimes very hard to differentiate between lust and anger. When he kissed Moran, it was rage he felt building up in his torso, threatening to suffocate him. He didn’t know where it came from. Or if he was just interpreting his emotions wrong. Ha. Emotions.

He roughly unbuckled Sebastian’s belt, sliding it through the loops of his waistband with one sinuous movement. He looped it on his hand, licking his lips. Just a bit, maybe. He could control himself, just give himself a little, then get dressed, go to dinner. The evening was young.

Jim nodded to himself slowly, then looked up at Sebastian with blazing eyes.

“On your knees, soldier.” He ran his hand through his hair, taking an almost shaky breath. “I want to accessorize your back before you put the dress shirt on. Black, Paul Stuart, you can wear the pearl cuff links. Easy enough choice.” His eyebrows drew down. “Kneel.”