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The door to the flat slams open as two people tumble through it. It’s hard at first to tell whether or not they’re trying to push the other away or pull them closer, and it’s even harder to tell if they’re kissing or biting.
Sebastian lets out a low growl as Jim manages to jab his fingers into a sensitive place in his ribs and bites his lips in retaliation, getting a grip in Jim’s hair with his fist and tugging sharply, earning a pained noise from Jim. “Watch it, you animal,” Jim snarls, and aims a kick at his shin, landing a glancing blow.
Letting go, Sebastian steps back to slump against the opposite wall for a moment, catching his breath, and laughs when Jim winces and reaches up to smooth down his hair and rub at the place where Sebastian had gripped it. “Oh, I see. James Moriarty can dish it but can’t take it.”
Sharp, glittering eyes immediately snap to Sebastian’s and the sniper feels fear slip through his belly like liquid silver, shiny and hot. A moment later, Sebastian has an armful of feral Irishman, and has to twist wildly to get out of the chokehold that Jim tries to get him in. They wind up somehow further into the sitting room, with Jim on top of Sebastian, trying to yank his clothes off even as he throws a punch, connecting with Sebastian’s cheek.
Blinking away the stars, Sebastian yells angrily and finally gets the leverage on Jim he needs to quickly flip them, and pins Jim down with his bodyweight, fighting to get a grip on the man’s wrists and pin them wide. His shirt gets torn in the process but he doesn’t notice, just takes a few gasping breaths as he situates himself, getting Jim’s torso pinned by sitting on him, leaning his weight down onto Jim’s wrists while the smaller man thrashes underneath him.
“You rotten bastard!” Jim yells, twisting and trying to plant his feet to buck Sebastian over him. Sebastian just rides the movements and grins widely, the fear slipping away and into something more sinister and selfish. “Get off me, so help me, Sebastian, I’ll string you up and carve slices out of you. You know the rules!”
“Do I?” Sebastian affects a thoughtful expression, his voice full of sarcasm, “I guess I just don’t remember.” Carefully, he gets both of Jim’s wrists together and yanks off the man’s tie, giving him a hard slap across the face when the man tries to bite his hand. Without giving Jim time to fully recover, he takes the opportunity to flip him over, planting himself on the man’s hips and getting a quick knot around one of his wrists, pinning it to the small of his back while Jim tries to play keep-away with his other still free hand. “Now, now, none of that, Jim,” he chides, finally pinning his arm and yanking his hand none-too-gently back and setting to work binding and knotting his wrists firmly together. “Time to play nice and be a good little pet for me.”
“Over my dead body,” Jim snarls, rolling away from Sebastian and shoving himself into a sitting position through use of an elbow, core muscle and some amount of sheer willpower as Sebastian stands up and begins dusting off his pants unhurriedly. “Untie me right now, Moran, you fucking bastard, you cur, I hate you.” Sebastian steps over until he’s standing directly in front of Jim and fists a handful of his hair again, pulling upwards so that Jim has no choice but to scramble his legs underneath him into a kneeling position before he loses a chunk of scalp, letting out a pained keen.
“Baby, you say such nice things to me,” Sebastian purrs, feeling more confident as Jim twists his wrists behind himself, trying to find a way out of the knots and failing to do so. He slaps Jim again across the face, earning another shriek of disapproval from his boss, “Don’t worry, if I leave a mark you can easily explain where you got it from. Taking orders from your subordinate in the bedroom. Nothing to be ashamed about,” he continues, grinning as a hot flush starts creeping up Jim’s neck from where his shirt has been pulled loose at the collar and threads his fingers through Jim’s hair gently, like he’s petting a dog. “Or is it?” He adds, voice thoughtful and teasing.
Jim takes the opportunity to lunge forward and headbutt Sebastian in the groin, slamming his weight against him and making Sebastian stumble backwards, swearing. He drops to a knee, gripping himself and wincing, glaring at Jim darkly. The criminal is grinning manically, somehow having managed to keep his balance and stumble to his feet. Jim aims a kick at Sebastian’s head, who manages to duck before getting to his own feet.
Sebastian’s next punch knocks the wind out of Jim, going straight to his gut and doubling Jim over. He throws the smaller man over his shoulder and strides to the bedroom, pausing only to grab a sharp knife from the cutting block in the kitchen while Jim wheezes over his shoulder, gasping for breath. He dumps Jim on the bed, and takes a moment to gather a few things while Jim curls on his side, finally getting his breath back and coughing.
“Now,” Sebastian says, tone measured and falling into control as he watches Jim glare up at him from the mattress, “Seems to me, you don’t want to be good for me, so you’re either refusing, or you don’t know how. And I know you know how, because you make me be good for you. And that means,” Sebastian continues, pulling out a length of rope and starting a complex knot at the headboard, keeping one eye on Jim as he makes a few half-hitches, “That you need putting in your place because you’re being bad.”
Jim laughs hollowly, though there’s a tinge of some emotion Sebastian’s never heard and can’t place in his words, “Honey, I practically invented bad. Of course I’m being bad. I’m not going to submit; certainly not to you.”
Sebastian turns and grips Jim’s chin in his hand, staring him down, searching his face and considering for a long moment. Jim doesn’t look away, just glares back at him, defiant. The sniper returns to his work, dragging Jim by the collar of his shirt further up the bed and making him choke slightly before pulling out the knife. Jim goes still, and Sebastian recognizes something in the man’s eyes finally. Fear.
“So this is what gets you to shut up and listen,” Sebastian says, bringing the knife closer and resting it against Jim’s cheek. The man is still and flicks his eyes from the metal to Sebastian’s cool grey eyes and back several times. Sebastian doesn’t miss that Jim’s slacks are rather tented in front as well. “Scared I’m going to mark you all up and make you mine forever?” Sebastian raises an eyebrow, lifting the knife away and carefully beginning to pop the buttons off of Jim’s rumpled white button-down.
Jim’s voice is still full of defiance and anger when he speaks, no hint of fear in his voice, “You wouldn’t dare.” He spits.
Sebastian gives Jim a long look, tapping the knife against Jim’s ribs and making the mastermind shudder involuntarily. “Wouldn’t I, though?” Sebastian asks, and then pulls Jim into a sitting position, cutting through the tie holding Jim’s wrists together and pressing him back down onto the bed, the knife now tucked sharply underneath his chin. “Don’t make a mistake right now, like underestimating me, Jim. Arms above your head.”
Jim doesn’t follow Sebastian’s orders, but he doesn’t move any other way either, just glares up at him. “You wouldn’t dare,” Jim says again, but he sounds slightly less sure of himself this time. Sebastian smirks and trails the knife down Jim’s chest until it’s resting over his left pectoral, and he presses down deeper, cutting a thin line and watching Jim’s skin split under the sharp blade, blood pooling up. Jim lets out a soft noise and tenses, but doesn’t pull away, worried about making a worse mark if he moves in the wrong direction.
The knife goes back against his throat a moment later, now warm and wet with some of Jim’s own blood. “I don’t like repeating myself, Jim,” he warns, something that Jim usually says to him when they’re in the middle of a game like this. Noticing, Jim hisses through his teeth angrily, but slowly raises his arms above his head. Sebastian keeps the blade pressed against Jim’s throat, aware that the little fucker will stoop to dirty tactics to get back on top the moment he thinks he can get away with it, and slips the premade knots over Jim’s wrists one at a time, tugging them firmly. Once he’s got Jim semi-secured, he tosses the knife onto the bedside table and fully secures the ropes, smirking when Jim immediately starts thrashing and trying to get free again the second the knife is out of reach.
He lets Jim struggle, and waits until Jim stills, realizing he isn’t getting anywhere, and picks up the knife again. “Time to get you out of these pretty clothes,” he comments, starting a cut along one of Jim’s cuffs, then setting the knife aside carefully and tearing the fabric down his arm.
Jim snarls at him, “That’s expensive, Sebastian, for fucksake!” Sebastian ignores him and finishes tearing the shirt off of him, then starts on Jim’s belt, unbuckling it. Frustrated and angry, Jim manages to bring his knee up and knock Sebastian in the jaw. His lip splits as it knocks against his teeth and Sebastian pulls off the bed, touching his lip and assessing the damage while swearing.
“You little bastard,” he snaps, “That fucking hurt.” Jim only sneers at him, fingers twisting about and trying to find the knots. Sebastian notices and steps back over, pulling the belt free and tearing a couple of the belt loops in the process with his viciousness. “You should have stopped me when I started cutting the buttons off, but fine. You like hurting me so much, let’s see if the sadism goes full circle back into masochism, hm?” He gets an arm underneath Jim and flips him onto his back, only for Jim to immediately flip to his front again.
Sebastian stills for a moment, then smiles like the devil. “Want it on your front? Alright, pet.” He doubles over the belt, gripping the buckle in his hand, and brings it down hard over Jim’s chest, making the man howl in pain and try to curl defensively up. Sebastian gets in two more blows before Jim gasps out his name, making him pause.
Sebastian waits. Jim gulps down air like a fish out of water, and blinks up at him with eyes stinging with unshed tears from around one of his arms shielding his face. Sebastian raises an eyebrow, “You going to roll over for me, or are you safewording?” It’s the first time either of them have brought it up since the first time they played together, with Jim teasingly asking Sebastian if he wanted a safeword. Sebastian, full of himself, had responded that he didn’t need one, and Jim had assigned Augustus as one ‘just in case’. While Sebastian had never used it, there were a few times where it had come close.
He’s never done this before, with Jim. He’s never been on top, in control, never taken away Jim’s ability to fight back at him and leave him helpless like this, never put a knife to the man’s throat. While the idea that Jim’s never done this before for anyone goes straight to his cock, Sebastian isn’t a fool, and will stop the moment Jim says the word.
Jim glances down at his own chest, which now has three nice red stripes across it, then turns his gaze back to Sebastian, his expression full of equal parts hate and arousal. “Let me up. Now.” Jim says, wrists twisting again against the rope.
Sebastian frowns, swatting Jim’s side, “Stop that, or you’ll chafe your wrists. That isn’t the safeword. Do you need a reminder?”
Jim is obviously irritated at this point and hisses at Sebastian again, “I don’t need a reminder of some stupid safeword, Sebastian, I want you to let me up, or I’ll fucking kill you.” His words drip like icicles down Sebastian’s spine, but he only smiles after a long, low second.
“Alright, the hard way, then.” He agrees, and flips Jim onto his front again, twisting the belt in his hands with satisfaction when Jim goes rigid but doesn’t roll over again. He waits a beat longer, but Jim still doesn’t speak, so Sebastian brings the belt down over Jim’s back, straight across the shoulders. Jim shudders but doesn’t cry out this time. “Decided not to give me the pleasure of hearing you, Jim?” He asks, smoothing his hand down the man’s side, grinning when Jim squirms, “That’s okay, you’ll let me know when you’re done with this, won’t you?”
Sebastian leans over and places a kiss between Jim’s shoulder blades, laughing when Jim curses him again, and sets the belt aside to finish stripping Jim down to his skin. Once he’s bare, Sebastian takes up the belt again, pacing up and down beside Jim, who’s hidden his face and hasn’t made a peep.
He cracks the belt over Jim’s back again, then twice more in quick succession. Jim tenses after each one, and his fingers flex after the third, but he doesn’t say anything. Sebastian sets up an inconsistent pace, aware that Jim’s affinity for patterns follows into the bedroom, and Sebastian wants Jim out of his head and unable to predict when the next hit is coming. He can’t count the number of times Jim has resorted to using the Fibonacci sequence on him, thinking he’s being clever by climbing up and down the first few numbers or using them as beat counts.
Sebastian counts up to twenty in his head, then lands a blow across Jim’s backside, and then man keens. The sniper pauses for a long moment, then strikes him in the same spot again. This time, Jim squirms and huffs out a heavy breath. “Progress, I see?” Sebastian speaks up, and grins when Jim finally turns his head enough to glare at him out of one eye. “It’s alright, dove, you can make noise for me. I’m sure you make very pretty noises, just like me when you get desperate enough.”
Jim doesn’t respond, but Sebastian notices the next few hits he lands on Jim’s arse cause him to buck forwards into the bed and squirm quite a bit. He gets to forty, alternating between his back and his arse and admiring the mottled red and bruised skin welling up under his ministrations, when Jim finally makes a word. “S-Seb,” he says, voice so quiet that Sebastian almost misses it.
“Yes, darling?” He responds, placing a hand on Jim’s arse and can feel the heat radiating off of him as Jim inhales quickly and lets it out again in a shaky breath.
“Enough,” comes the quiet response, and Sebastian leans down to press a kiss to Jim’s shoulder.
“Not good enough, Jim,” Sebastian says, eying the patterning on the man’s back appraisingly, “You have to ask me nicely to stop.” Jim squirms again and shakes his head, not looking up at Sebastian at all and hiding his face. “You’re going to be good for me,” Sebastian says, in the best imitation of Jim that he can, in that tone when he’s made a decision and the rest of the world hasn’t realized it needs to shape itself into his wishes.
He strikes Jim again, this time on the back of his thighs and Jim lets out a howl of pain into his arms and the duvet, muffled against the bed. Sebastian sets up a count of a brutal ten hits, not pausing between any of them – back, arse, thigh – over and over again, and then lands a particularly nasty blow against Jim’s arse again, enough to color it instantly and raise a welt.
Jim lets out a soft noise and finally speaks again, “Sebastian,” he says, voice choked. Sebastian waits, running his nails down Jim’s back and making the man whimper, “Please stop.”
Humming thoughtfully, Sebastian taps his fingers against Jim’s shoulder, considering. “You did ask nicely,” he agrees, wondering if he can push it as far as Jim does for him, “But I’m not entirely done with my fun. Tell me, pet,” he says, leaning down close to the man’s ear, lips brushing against his hair for a moment, “Do you think you could handle five more for me?” There’s a moment of hesitation, but Jim nods just a bit, and Sebastian tugs his hair warningly, “With your words.”
“Y-Yes.” Jim says, and Sebastian feels heat pool in his groin again. Jim is covered in welts, face down on his bed, completely naked, and is agreeing to let Sebastian hurt him a bit more.
“Very good,” Sebastian praises, smoothing down Jim’s hair and hearing a soft noise in response. Jim still doesn’t lift his head, just shifts slightly. “Count them out for me, Jim.”
He lands the first blow, and Jim shudders along his entire body, before hesitantly saying, “One.” Another hits his arse again and he yelps, but continues, “Two.” Sebastian strikes higher on Jim’s back, then again in another fast movement as Jim takes in a breath to count, making him positively wail, “Th-Three.” Jim pants, and swallows thickly, his head twisting between his arms, “Four.” Sebastian brings the last one down across the middle of Jim’s back, the hardest he’s gone yet, and Jim screams, twisting against his restraints and rolling sideways, away from Sebastian.
The sniper gets a grip on Jim’s hip to keep him from rolling further and plants a knee on the bed, eyes roving over Jim’s front and feeling his mouth drop open slightly. Jim is leaking steadily and his cock is rock hard. There’s a wet spot on the comforter, and Jim is still hiding his face. “Oh, turned on by the pain after all, huh, pet? No need to be ashamed, it’s alright.” Sebastian strokes a hand down Jim’s side and the smaller man shudders again. “You missed your count, Jim, do we need to start again?”
“Five,” comes the quiet reply, voice shaky.
Sebastian reaches out and runs two fingers up Jim’s cock, making the man let out a shuddering noise. “You gonna behave for me now?” Jim nods, his hips hitching up against Sebastian’s hand as the sniper’s calloused hand gets a firmer grip around him, stroking a few times. Sebastian’s hand stills, and Jim mewls, making Sebastian realize how hard he is himself all over again, and he stands off the bed to strip out of his torn shirt and the rest of his clothes.
Jim is quiet, but as Sebastian’s pulling off his socks, he speaks up, “Please come back, Sebastian.” He says, voice hoarse but soft, “I’ll be good.”
“I know you will,” Sebastian responds, grabbing the lube off the nightstand and picking up the knife again, though Jim doesn’t see it, face hidden as it is. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling beside Jim, and pushes at his side, rolling him over onto his back. Jim hisses in pain but settles, fingers gripping the ropes but not trying to work the knots free anymore. Sebastian runs his fingers along Jim’s sides approvingly again, and nudges his legs open.
Jim stills again, and his legs shift closer together, his knees drawing up slightly. “Come on now, darling,” Sebastian says softly, “You said you’d be good for me. I’ll open you up nice, don’t worry.” Noticing that Jim hasn’t shown his face the entire time, Sebastian shifts up over him, pulling Jim’s arms away from where they’re blocking his face. Jim immediately twists his head to the side, but he can’t hide the fact that there are tear marks running down his cheeks, or that his eyes are swimming.
Sebastian’s gut does a somersault and his cock twitches where it hangs heavy between his legs, and he leans down to lick Jim’s cheek of the salty tears, kissing the other. Jim makes a soft noise and squeezes his eyes shut. “Made you cry, didn’t I?” Sebastian says, and Jim stares across the room, but nods. Sebastian grips his chin and turns his face to him. Jim doesn’t fight the grip, but he won’t meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Look at me, Jim.”
Slowly, Jim’s gaze rises to meet Sebastian’s, and Seb rewards him with a kiss that tastes like metal, his split lip forgotten until he presses it against Jim’s mouth. “I’m gonna open you up, and then I’m going to finish what I started,” he promises, making Jim’s brow furrow with confusion.
When Sebastian doesn’t explain himself but returns to Jim’s legs, once again tapping at his knee, Jim slowly lets his legs fall open and shifts them where Sebastian wants them. Sebastian has to slow himself down several times as he stretches Jim. The man’s never done this before with him and while Sebastian has to assume Jim’s bottomed before, it can’t have been for a long time, because it’s never been offered up as something Jim’s willing to allow. The sniper can barely keep it together, but he forces himself to work slowly and methodically.
Jim’s erection has waned, but once Sebastian has three fingers inside of him and presses in the right spot, Jim’s hips start hitching towards his hands in a slow rhythm. Sebastian wonders if he could make Jim come like this, if he kept it up. Instead, he bites at Jim’s thigh, grinning around his mouthful when he feels Jim clench around his fingers. Pulling back and slicking himself up, he can see Jim’s gone hard again and is watching him carefully.
Sebastian makes the glorious slide into Jim’s body slowly, letting out a shaky breath as Jim twists underneath him and then roll his hips against him, unused to the intrusion and acclimatizing to the sensation. Letting Jim get settled and comfortable, Sebastian takes up the knife where he’d left it safely out of the way on the bed but still within reach, and grins as Jim notices, his body tensing and his cock twitching.
“A little more fun,” Sebastian says, brandishing the knife. “To prove you’re being good for me. You’ll hold nice and still and I’m going to take turns cutting on you, and fucking you.”
Jim squirms, and shakes his head, eyes still glued to the knife. “No,” he says, voice thick. Sebastian waits, raising an eyebrow and bringing the knife down to where the first cut was made on Jim’s chest. Blood is smeared across part of it and Sebastian belatedly realizes they’ll have to throw these sheets away, probably. A problem for another time. Instead, he presses the blade there.
“Jim,” Sebastian says, warningly, reminding the man without words that he needed to safeword if he wanted out of it. Cutting someone was permanent. Sebastian knew – he had initials carved several times into his hip, and all from the man underneath him. Jim gazes up at Sebastian for a long moment, jaw working while he thinks, but slumps back after a moment against the pillows and drops his gaze. Sebastian sets the knife aside again and grips Jim’s chin, pulling slightly out of Jim and pressing back in, fucking him slowly, “You’re going to be good?” He asks again.
Jim lets out a low moan, not meeting Sebastian’s gaze again, but nods as Sebastian’s hips still, rewarded immediately when Sebastian fucks into him sharply a few times, and his head tips back as Jim lets out another moan, “Yes, okay, fine, Sebastian, I’ll be good, please,” he says, and Sebastian straightens up, pleased.
He fucks Jim languidly for a few more moments, then takes up the knife again, stilling inside of Jim and bending over him, placing his free hand on the man’s chest. “Deep breath, Jim, no sudden movements,” he warns, and makes another careful cut near the first he’d made.
Jim twists his head to the side, pressing it against his arm, but doesn’t move otherwise, a low noise bubbling out of his throat as his skin softly tears, new blood mingling with some already dried.
Sebastian finishes the cut, sets the knife aside, and fucks Jim again, careful and slow, until Jim’s pants turn to soft moans and noises again. Then he takes up the knife again. This time, he makes a curved mark and moves slower, having to pause a few times because Jim is clenching repeatedly around him. Glancing down, Sebastian can see Jim’s cock leaking against his belly, and grins. Jim is definitely a masochist too, then.
When he starts fucking into Jim again, he notices that Jim’s eyes are open and he’s crying again. Sebastian leans over him and hitches his knee further up so he can get a good angle and leans down over Jim, mouthing at his jaw. “You’re doing good, dove,” he repeats, “Just a bit more.”
Jim nods senselessly, turning his face to mouth at Sebastian, catching several deep kisses for his trouble, before Sebastian pulls away, leaving Jim trying to chase his mouth and his movements arrested by his arms still snug above his head. He keens again, past words, and Sebastian hushes him.
On the next cut, Sebastian has to stop to press Jim’s hips still against the bed, because he keeps trying to fuck himself on Sebastian. “Hold still, Jim,” he warns, and Jim starts crying harder at Sebastian’s firm tone.
“Need you,” Jim manages, voice wrecked, and Sebastian realizes suddenly that Jim’s at his limit. This is how he gets when he’s finally at the edge. He glances down at his handiwork, and runs a soothing hand over Jim’s thigh.
“I’m right here, Jim. Two more cuts, and we’re done. Okay?” Sebastian grins as Jim nods again, eyes wild, and Sebastian finishes the cut he was making, immediately moving to the next one. Jim’s breathing is heavy, and he’s crying now despite the careful breaths he’s taking, eyes fixed on Sebastian’s hand over his heart.
Sebastian takes a break between that and the last cut, fucking into Jim slowly. Jim shifts against him to meet his movements in a way that tells Sebastian he definitely has been fucked before, but it doesn’t matter, not really, because Sebastian is here, cutting him, and Jim’s skin is as unmarked and smooth as Sebastian’s is littered in scars. He takes up the knife a final time.
“Last one,” he says, a hand pressing down on Jim’s chest. By the time he’s finished with the last curve, he realizes that Jim’s breathing is ragged and his cock is jumping over and over between them. Sebastian tosses the knife off the bed onto the bedside table, not worrying about the blood and more concerned with the knife finding its way to somewhere it doesn’t belong while they’re distracted, and hums, wrapping his hand around Jim’s cock again.
Jim keens, his hips hitching up helplessly, his breathing coming in sobs now that he doesn’t have to hold still. Sebastian smiles, stroking him gently, “You’re so pretty when you cry, Jim.” Jim lets out a whimper and twists his arms again, eyes scrunching shut in a combination of pain and overstimulation. “You wanna come?” He asks, finally starting to fuck into Jim again, already feeling the heat building to a high inside of himself.
Jim nods wildly, letting out choked sobs every time Sebastian bottoms out inside of him, pushing back as much as he can against Sebastian. “Y-Yes,” he says, hips stuttering erratically.
Sebastian pulls out and presses Jim’s hips firmly down against the bed and Jim howls, twisting against Sebastian’s grip. “Don’t come without my permission, Jim,” he instructs, and Jim lets out another sob, shaking his head. “Come on, pet, you’ve been good the last little while, don’t you want to end on a good note?”
Jim takes in a few shaky, hitching breaths, and finally looks at Sebastian. The stare has Sebastian pressing back inside of Jim before he’s really aware of what he’s doing. It’s desperate, it’s pleading, it’s completely wrecked and it goes straight to Sebastian’s cock.
It takes only a few seconds for Jim to give in, hips hitching in the air again, trying to get Sebastian to touch him, “Please, Sebastian!” He cries, his head thrashing back and forth on the bed. Sebastian presses his palm flat against Jim’s cock, and Jim throws his head back, keening. “Please – Please – Please can I come?” He finally chokes out between sobs.
Sebastian starts stroking Jim roughly, humming his assent, “You can come, Jim,” he says, just as Jim tightens around him enough to make Sebastian believe in God again, and Jim comes in ropes up his chest. Sebastian tumbles over the edge after him a few moments later, eyes fixed on the letters carved in Jim’s skin.
When he fits back into himself a few seconds later, Jim is boneless on the bed, crying softly. Sebastian pulls gently out of him, making Jim twitch and let out a noise, and moves to the bathroom, grabbing a few supplies before his legs have a chance to decide they’re giving out.
He comes back with damp towels and the med kit to find Jim twisting in his restraints and sobbing almost hysterically. “Jim,” he starts, before realizing the issue, and quickly sets everything down, climbing back on the bed next to him and running a hand down his arm. “Hey, shh, it’s okay, I’m right here,” he says, voice soothing. Jim turns and tries to press against him, still crying, and Sebastian has to shift Jim physically and also move closer so that he can undo the ropes around his wrists.
The second his hands are free, Jim curls them around Sebastian, gripping him tightly. Sebastian hums, and shifts them carefully until he has his back against the headboard and Jim curled in the space between his legs, his side pressed to Sebastian’s front and his head tucked under Sebastian’s chin. He rubs up and down Jim’s back carefully ang soothingly, murmuring softly to him.
Jim cries, and cries, and won’t let go of Sebastian’s arm that’s in front of him, keeping him pressed close. Sebastian soothes him gently, pressing kisses to the top of his head. “It’s alright, Jim, you did amazingly. It’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He hadn’t realized Jim was going to drop so easily – well, easily for them, he supposes – or so quickly, but he’s dealt with this before with others. With Jim, it’s easy to know what to say.
“You did great, Jim, you did everything I asked and I’m very proud of you. It’s alright,” he repeats, reaching out for a washcloth and huffing a soft and amused breath when Jim tries to wrangle his arm back. “I’m gonna clean you up a bit, okay?” He says, “You’ve got a good hold on me, I’m not going anywhere,” he assures him.
Jim finally allows him to collect his supplies, and sits quietly, still taking shuddering breaths and sniffling as Sebastian cleans him up, wiping him down and using another cloth to pat away the sticky blood across his chest. Sebastian will clean it more properly in a bit when they go shower, but for now, he just wants the worst of it off.
Sebastian cuddles Jim until the man’s half asleep in his arms, worn out from their activities and from the emotion. Sebastian would never have guessed that Jim would cry, let alone require aftercare. Still, he’s not an arsehole, he’s not going to leverage this against him or make fun. Sebastian himself needs it, sometimes, and Jim always provides it.
Eventually, Sebastian presses a final kiss into Jim’s hair, and reaches up to stroke Jim’s face, “Hey, Jim,” he starts, voice soft, “Can you tell me how you’re doing?”
Jim answers after a moment, voice soft and sluggish, “Feels like a lot,” he says, eyes opening before they slip closed again, shifting to be more comfortable against Sebastian.
Sebastian strokes his hair for a moment, then tries again, “Can you be more specific, please?”
After a beat, Jim shifts slightly, taking some of his own weight off of Sebastian and sitting up a bit straighter, bringing up a hand to rub at his eyes. “Back hurts. Chest hurts. Thighs hurt.” He huffs a laugh, “Guess it’s like riding a bike, huh?”
The sniper smiles at that, hearing a bit more of Jim’s usual tone in his voice, and rubs gently across the back of Jim’s neck again. Jim hums, tone low and soft. “Didn’t think you’d have it in you, to control me,” he says, after another moment, finally glancing up to gauge Sebastian’s expression.
Sebastian tries not to look proud at the comment, and lifts a shoulder, “Didn’t think you’d let me,” he responds, and Jim hums again, in that same tone.
“I almost didn’t,” he said, reaching out to trail his fingertips over Sebastian’s knee, “But…” he trails off, then sighs, and scoots out of Sebastian’s arms to the edge of the bed, and stands, stretching carefully and wincing when his entire body hurts.
“But?” Sebastian prompts, slipping to sit at the edge of the bed, suddenly trying to gauge how their fun had changed their dynamic, if it had at all.
“But I’m glad I did.” Jim turns to give Sebastian a long look, then huffs out a breath and smiles, sticking out a hand and beckoning to Sebastian, “Come on. I feel absolutely filthy and you need to clean this up so it doesn’t get infected. I expect you to do all the work of soaping me up and down. You did a number on me and I’m going to feel it for half a week at the least.”
Sebastian grins, and takes Jim’s hand, letting the criminal mastermind lead him into the bathroom.
Later, after their shower, Jim wipes the mirror down and appraises Sebastian’s handiwork, frowning at the cuts and tracing his fingers carefully over them, despite the sting. Sebastian watches cautiously from the other side of the room and Jim catches him looking in the mirror, locking eyes through the reflection. “You should have worried about this before you marked it into me permanently,” he admonishes, rolling his eyes when Sebastian just worries his lip, still looking unsure, “You idiot,” Jim says, turning and gesturing to his chest where ‘SM’ is carefully carved over his heart, “You could at least try to be more subtle next time. Your initials over my heart? Really?”
There’s no bite at all to Jim’s tone, and Sebastian manages a grin after a moment, “Seemed appropriate,” he says, moving forwards to apply a large bandage and some tape. Jim holds still and watches Sebastian’s face as he works, rolling his eyes again.
“Yes, very appropriate for a big possessive oaf like you,” Jim replies, giving Sebastian a swat around the back of the head. When Sebastian’s done applying the first aid supplies, Jim runs a finger over it once, then turns. “Come on. We’re sleeping in your bed. I don’t want to deal with that,” he gestures at the bed, rumpled, covered in bodily fluids, and with ropes still attached to the headboard.
When they slip into Sebastian’s bed, Jim stays on his side as usual for the first few minutes, but after a while in the dark, he rolls over and scoots his way into Sebastian’s arms instead. “Not done needing you,” he says simply, cold nose pressed against Sebastian’s collarbone.
Sebastian smiles, and wraps his arms around Jim.