Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1905531.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Moran/Jim_Moriarty
  Character:
      Jim_Moriarty, Sebastian_Moran
  Additional Tags:
      Tickling, Boarding_School, Golden_shower
  Series:
      Part 1 of The_Boarding_School_AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-06 Words: 4944
****** Golden Morning ******
by thebermuda
Summary
     Sebastian's roommate still pisses the bed, but Sebastian doesn't
     think this is anything to be embarrassed about. After all, he's been
     dreaming of being pissed on.
As soon as Sebastian entered the dorm he shared with Jim, an acrid odor wafted
over him. He covered his nose with his sleeve, but not before his mind took the
smell and assigned a name to it: Ammonia.
Next he processed the sight of Jim still in bed on his top bunk, even though
Sebastian had already had his first morning class. The bugger wasn’t sleeping,
but frantically pulling at his sheets like something mad. And of course he was
mad. Or so all the Etonian boys said.
“What’s the matter, Jimmikins?” Sebastian said. The nickname used to be a taunt
for him, but it had become more of a habit ever since the Irish exchange
student was made his roommate. “Find a wrinkle in your sheet? A thread come
loose?”
Probably Jim was going to burn his sheets over some minor flaw he’d perceived
in them during his morning examination. The bugger was positively OCD – a
complete neat freak. It drove Sebastian mad, although he supposed he was used
to it. His father was just the same.
Jim gave such a start that it was obvious he hadn’t heard Sebastian come in.
Sebastian waited for one of Jimmikins’s usual responses – a snarl, or a book
thrown at him from the top-bunk-to-floor trajectory that Jim had mastered over
the last semester.
Instead, Jim’s eyes grew wide, a deer caught in headlights. Or a murderer
caught hunched over a bloodied corpse – that seemed more like Jim. Then he
blurted: “Get out.”
“What for?” Sebastian asked, plopping into an armchair on the other side of the
room. “I mean, I might. It bloody reeks in here – ”
“Get out. I need to study,” Jim said.
“Doesn’t look like you’re studying. Looks like you’re tearing your claws into
those – ” Sebastian spotted a heap on the floor, beside their bunk bed. Jim’s
duvet.
Oh.
“You pissed yourself.” Sebastian blurted it out, then grinned. “Holy shit,” he
said, observing the way Jim’s face grew a horrible, beet red. “You did. You
fucking pissed your bed.”
Before he could wait for Jim to respond, Sebastian burst into laughter. He
clutched his chest, unable to contain himself. It was so far off from the image
Jim tried to present to everyone – the quiet, condescending know-it-all who
managed to be better than everyone else despite being Irish and solidly middle-
class. And yet this seemed like such a middle-class problem to Sebastian. If
Sebastian had had this kind of problem, his father would have beaten it out of
him years ago. But he could imagine Jim’s Irish mammy now, coddling him like a
toddler.
It was too much.
“Stop it,” Jim growled.
Sebastian was gasping by now; he truly couldn’t stop.
“I said stop it!” Jim picked up his bunched-up sheets and threw them at
Sebastian. They unraveled in the air, making the short distance between the
bunk bed and the opposite wall, and fell over him.
He was cloaked in the scent of ammonia and a warm dampness.
He scrambled, trying to toss the sheet off of himself without feeling the
wetness on his hands. He failed and, once the sheet was thrown onto the ground,
he got up, rubbing his hands against his trousers.
“That’s fucking gross, Jimmikins,” Sebastian said.
Jim was still beet red. He climbed off the top bunk and landed on the ground.
Despite being bare-footed, he made his way to the door as if to leave.
Sebastian sat up and grabbed at his wrist. Jim yanked, trying to pull away.
Sebastian knew that Jim hated the way Sebastian was stronger than him, could
overpower him no matter how smart he was.
“Where are you going?” Sebastian said.
“To study,” Jim said lowly.
He really was embarrassed, which Sebastian thought was kind of cute. He’d never
seen anyone get so red before, and Sebastian liked the way Jim – usually so
obnoxiously upfront – couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Liar. You don’t even have your socks and shoes on. Where are you really
going?” Sebastian asked.
“Let go of me.” Jim tried to snatch his wrist away again and failed.
“Tell me where you’re going,” Sebastian said.
“Let go of me!” Jim tried yanking with all of his body weight, but – well,
really, what was all of the freshman shrimp’s body weight to the upperclass
captain of the rugby team?
Sebastian smiled, sensing an opportunity. As Jim struggled, Sebastian pulled in
the opposite direction, sitting back in his chair. Jim fell gracelessly in
Sebastian’s lap, a red-faced heap.
“Where’re you going, Jimmikins?” Sebastian taunted. With one hand he pulled
Jim’s wrist behind his back and captured Jim’s other wrist in the same hand.
He yanked Jim’s arms up, exposing his underarms, and began to tickle at one of
them with his free hand. Jim shrieked and squirmed, but it didn’t matter. Class
was in session for most of the boys on this floor. No one was going to hear him
through the walls.
“Stop – it – ” Jim managed between gasps. His eyes were smarting from
Sebastian’s light touches.
“I said, ‘Where’re you going?’” Sebastian asked, laughing the more Jim
struggled, tickling harder. “Tell me and I’ll stop.” Sebastian wrapped his arm
to the front, pulling up Jim’s shirt so that he could tickle Jim’s tummy. Jim
leaned away from his hand, pressing against Sebastian’s chest. “Or maybe,”
Sebastian said, as if considering something, “I won’t stop. I’ll just keep
tickling you ’til you piss yourself again. Right into my lap. What do think of
that, Jimmikins? Think I can make you pee on me?”
Sebastian’s laughter stopped when Jim’s only response was a gasp. Not for
breath, but a gasp like a sobbing-gasp. And sure enough, even as Sebastian’s
tickling slowed, Jim’s shoulders shook against Sebastian with the force of
Jim’s shaky breath.
Jim was crying.
Not tearing up from Sebastian’s roughhousing. Actually crying.
“Hey… Stop that,” Sebastian said softly, tickling hand falling to the side.
“Jimmik – Jim, hey. Stop it. I’ve stopped tickling, see? I’m done. It’s over.
Stop crying.”
Although Sebastian couldn’t see Jim’s face, he saw the back of Jim’s head. Jim
was shaking his head.
“L-l-let me – let me g-go,” Jim said between heaving gasps.
Sebastian’s hand was so light around Jim’s wrist now that Jim could easily pull
away, but he didn’t. It was like all the fight had suddenly left him, and there
wasn’t any fun in that.
Sebastian removed his hand from Jims’. As soon as he did, Jim launched away
from him. Sebastian thought he would leave the room, but instead Jim did
something strange.
There was a wardrobe in their dorm, which they shared, and as soon as Jim was
free he ran to it. He opened one of the doors and went inside it, pushing aside
their low-hanging uniforms. Sebastian saw him situate himself on the wardrobe’s
floor, knees to his chin, before he pulled the door shut.
It seemed such a weird thing to do, but it left a heavy pit in Sebastian’s gut.
Sebastian couldn’t be sure, of course – he hardly knew a thing about the Irish
bugger, after all – but it seemed suddenly that Jim might have the same
associations with wardrobes as he did. There was no logical reason for Jim to
seek refuge in a wardrobe. Sebastian could very easily open the doors and pull
him out. But Sebastian knew, even as a nearly-grown man, that he associated
wardrobes with safety. Hadn’t crawled into one in years, of course. Probably
wouldn’t even fit, now. But they were handy things. A drunkard never thought to
look in a wardrobe, it seemed. Certainly couldn’t see a child hunched beneath
piles of old clothes, not through their blurred vision. Yes. A wardrobe was a
very safe place to be.
Jim’s crying had made a funny situation tense, but this changed things
entirely.
Sebastian got up, approached the wardrobe slowly, as if afraid his loud
footsteps might scare Jim.
He crouched in front of the doors and said, “Hey, Jim.” He stopped. He wasn’t
sure what else to say. The room still reeked, although his nose was mostly
desensitized. Should he stay here, and try to coax Jim out? Stay here and leave
Jim alone? Do Jim’s laundry?
“If I can…do something,” he finished lamely.
He heard a sniffle, and thought Jim wouldn’t respond, but then came his muffled
voice: “I want my socks and shoes.”
“Alright,” Sebastian said. “I’ll get your socks and shoes.” Although already he
was panicking, because he was looking around and couldn’t find them, and
suddenly it seemed very important that he be able to provide Jim with his socks
and shoes, at least.
Jim spoke again, his tears evidently having calmed down a bit. “I…” He sniffed.
“I was going to talk to the housemaster. I am going to talk to the housemaster.
I’m getting a single room.”
Sebastian’s heart sank. As much as he made rooming with Jim seem like a chore
to his friends, and made fun of Jim with every insult he could think of,
Sebastian didn’t like the thought of him leaving. He picked on Jim, but Jim was
just as awful. Calling him stupid all of the time. Going through his backpack
to find his homework and pick it apart, dissect it for all its imperfections.
Going to his rugby games to sit on the sidelines and boo at Sebastian. Always
doing his best to make sure that, after the games, the teachers watched
Sebastian before he could sneak off to the woods with a girl. Hell, he hadn’t
been laid once all semester, and that was entirely Jim’s fault.
So it wasn’t like Sebastian was the only one who made a shitty roommate.
And Sebastian, for some ridiculous reason, didn’t want Jim to leave.
“They won’t give you a single room,” Sebastian said automatically. “You’re a
freshman, they never give fresh – ”
“Stay out of it!” Jim kicked at the wardrobe door. Sebastian heard him sob
again. “Just stay the fuck away from me.”
Sebastian was surprised to hear him curse. He’d never done that before. And
moreover, Jim’s brogue was coming out. Jim always sounded different, never had
Sebastian’s received pronunciation, but he hadn’t realized that Jim was
significantly diminishing his own accent. Now it came out, a full-force lilt.
“I will get a single room. I’ll tell the housemaster about how I – how I wet
the bed, like a little boy, and I can’t have anyone staying with me. And when I
tell the housemaster he’ll tell some teachers, and some teachers will tell some
students, and everyone will fucking know. So that should make you happy. You’ll
be free of me and you won’t even have to go through the trouble of telling the
school about how I’m such a fucking little kid. Although, of course, if you
want a head start, you can go tell someone right now. Sure you’ll like that. My
life will be even more of a living hell than it already is. Do you like that?”
There was a pause, and a sniff. Sebastian could hear his own heartbeat in his
ears.
“I don’t care,” Jim continued. He repeated it, like a mantra: “I don’t care.
I’ll be alone soon. I don’t care.”
Sebastian couldn’t take it. He swung open the wardrobe door.
“You can’t leave,” he said. Jim’s eyes were blotchy, and Sebastian thought for
a moment that Jim was going to kick him.
“You can’t keep me locked in here forever,” Jim retorted.
“No – no, I mean…” Sebastian sighed. He was terrible at this. “I mean you
shouldn’t leave, because I’m not going to tell anyone. I was never going to
tell anyone.”
“You’re lying,” Jim said through gritted teeth. “You are.”
“I’m not.”
“Then you’ll hold it over me for the rest of our school years. I’d rather let
everyone know and have it over with. You can’t blackmail me, Moran.”
Sebastian always felt a pleasant shiver when Jim said his name. He said, “I’m
not going to do that. I swear. We’ll never mention this again.”
“I’m not stupid,” Jim said.
“I know you’re not,” Sebastian blurted. Jim blinked, as if surprised by the
sincerity in Sebastian’s voice.
Then Sebastian saw more clearly: Crouched in a wardrobe was a younger, bullied
boy who had just had his most mortifying secret revealed to his older bully of
a roommate. And to top it off he’d been thoroughly defeated in a tickle attack.
That was as low as things got, really.
Jim wanted to leave because he was utterly humiliated. Sebastian had given him
a rough time for ages, but Jim had always returned it. They made each other’s
lives difficult in equal turns. Now, suddenly, Sebastian had the definite upper
hand.
 So for Jim to stay, Sebastian just had to change that.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Sebastian said slowly, “because if I do, then you can
tell the school something about me. Something just as bad. And we’ll be even.
But since obviously I wouldn’t want you to do that, I won’t tell anyone
anything in the first place.”
“Oh, good idea,” Jim said, brightly sarcastic. “I’ll tell the whole school
everything I know about you.” He pretended to consider, then held up a finger.
“Firstly, you’re loads better than everyone at rugby.” A second finger. “Loads
better-looking, too.” A third finger. “You get higher test grades than everyone
else – besides me, of course. And hmm… Oh, I know! I’ll tell them all about the
time you won in a fight against seven other boys. Or maybe the night you laid
three girls at the same time – triplets, were they? Oh, no, I’m sorry.” Jim
frowned phonily. “Did you mean I should tell them something embarrassing about
you? Hm… That doesn’t leave much. I could tell them that even though we’re all
studying Homer now, you had the Odyssey memorized by the time you were eight.
That’s pretty shaming, for your type. Should I tell them that you’re champion-
level at chess? Hm. Maybe not. You know, nerdy as that may be, some boys
actually go for the nerd types – ”
“Shut up,” Sebastian growled. “I didn’t mean something you already know, idiot.
I meant that I’ll tell you something. Something really embarrassing. So that
we’re even.”
Jim crossed his arms. Sebastian stared at him.
“Well?” Jim said. “I’m waiting.”
His anger had apparently replaced any abject helplessness, and as a result his
voice had taken on its usual bossy tone. It was impossible to remember what it
even sounded like when he cried.
Sebastian could feign annoyance at this, but he was glad to see that things
were getting back to normal. Maybe there was an actual chance that Jim wouldn’t
leave now.
Sebastian tried to think of a mortifying secret. Several came to him
immediately, but he couldn’t tell Jim anything involving his father. Nothing
that could possibly risk Ambassador Moran’s precious government position could
leave Sebastian’s lips, of course. Not if Sebastian felt like living.
A sudden thought came to Sebastian. He swallowed it back, blushing immediately.
No. He definitely couldn’t tell Jim that.
But maybe a watered-down version of it would be enough.
“I wank,” Sebastian said.
There was silence.
Then Jim, in deadpan: “Just like everyone else in the world.” He feigned a
yawn. “Boorrring. And besides, Moran. You think I can’t hear you at night? Your
hitched breaths and stifled moans aren’t terribly clandestine, you know.”
Jim’s tone was snappish, but for some reason when he said it his cheeks got
faintly pink.
“It’s what I think about,” Sebastian said. “Not everyone in the world thinks
about the same things as me.”
“Well?” Jim said, cocking an eyebrow. “What is it? Our maid? Your best friend’s
sister? Your best friend’s mum? Do impress me, Moran.”
Sebastian clenched his fist.
“You,” he said. “I think about you.”
Suddenly the room was so hot he felt like he was on fire. He wanted to open the
window. Get away from Jim. He was so hot he was going to die.
But Jim seemed to have barely heard.
“I don’t believe you,” he said simply, brushing it off. “And if I don’t, then
neither will anyone else. Some juicy confession isn’t good enough, Moran, come
on. I need something solid, something that’ll hold up as a weapon if you tell
anyone my secret. I want pictures, a video, proof.”
Despite the overwhelming shame that had flooded him – or more likely because of
it – Sebastian suddenly resented the fact that Jim didn’t believe him. Needed
to make him believe.
“You’re the only thing I ever think about,” Sebastian said. “Nearly anything
you do can get me going, really. Watching you read a book. Watching you look
out the window at night, gazing at the stars. Hell, I like it when you tell me
how shit I am at rugby. I like that even though you come to boo me, you still
haven’t missed one of my games. When I’m on the field, I’m playing for you. Do
you know that? I want you to be watching. I want to impress you. A few months
back, when you never shut up about how I failed my Catullus exam – I failed it
on purpose. I heard you boasting to someone about how you were skipping
freshman Latin and going straight into Catullus your second semester. I figured
it’d be the only class we could have together, if I could just fail and retake
it. Do you know how hard my father beat me over Christmas break, because of
that? I can show you.” Sebastian made a quick job of loosening his tie and
unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it off. He turned around so that Jim could see
the lashes still pink across his back.
Jim seemed about to say something, but Sebastian wasn’t through. The bugger had
no right to accuse Sebastian of lying.
“And do you know what I immediately thought of when I realized you pissed your
bed? It was barely a conscious thought,” Sebastian said, turning back around.
“It was just like jotting a note onto a calendar. I planned to wank off to
that, tonight. Most nights I can wank off to the sound of your breathing. But I
have problems, see. I’m sick. When I think of things like that – piss, you
pissing, pissing on me, sick, twisted shit like that – it gets me off. I
roughhouse you because I like when you hurt me back. Pull my hair. Slap me
around. I actually get off on that. That’s fucking disgusting, isn’t it? Like I
said, I have problems. I think it’s because my father beats me – ”
“Stop.”
Sebastian stopped talking.
He wanted to add, If you want a single room now, I won’t stop you, but he
didn’t say anything.
“I don’t believe you,” Jim said again. Incredulously. Infuriatingly. Sebastian
opened his mouth to retaliate, but Jim interrupted: “You have to prove it to
me. Proof, Moran. I want proof. I turn you on? Show me.”
Sebastian caught the twinkle in Jim’s eye, and understood. Jim knew Sebastian
was telling the truth. All of this would be way too out-of-the-blue to be
anything other than entirely honest. He was playing with Sebastian.
And as Sebastian had just revealed, he liked being played with.
“How can I show you?” Sebastian asked. Willing to do anything, suddenly, that
Jim asked.
Even though he didn’t trust the glint in Jim’s eyes. That was the glint that
came right before Jim did something crazy.
Jim finally got out of the wardrobe, pushing himself up off the floor. He stood
over Sebastian, who was still kneeling.
Jim lifted his bare foot and pushed Sebastian’s chin up with it. Sebastian
looked Jim in the eyes, feeling oddly vulnerable. It wasn’t a bad feeling,
though.
“I want,” Jim said. He stopped then, as if that were a complete sentence. As if
all the things he wanted in the world were too innumerable to name, and so the
two words simply had to bear the heaviness of those unlisted things.
“I want to relieve myself on you,” Jim said. “And we can see if it really gets
you off.”
Jim said this as if he were proposing an experiment to prove a hypothesis. But
the hypothesis was already proven, at least for Sebastian, by how his cock
twitched at Jim’s words.
“Deal,” he said, as if unfazed. But his heart pounded. He could feel that they
were both on the edge of something thus far unexplored, unspoken of. And he
could tell that Jim felt the same way. But neither of them said this aloud.
“Go. To the shower. Take off the rest of your clothes first.”
Jim, that mad Irish bastard, crossed the room and took a seat on his bed. He
folded his hands in his lap and looked at Sebastian, as if daring him to begin.
Sebastian undressed silently, too used to locker room comments and playful
spanks to be fazed by Jim’s gaze. He didn’t look at Jim, though, so he wasn’t
sure how Jim was reacting. He kept his eyes down, which made him all too aware
of his half-hard cock.
His heart was pounding in his eardrums so loudly that he wasn’t certain he’d
hear Jim if Jim spoke. Without a word, then, he left for the bathroom, feeling
Jim’s eyes on his bum as he entered the smaller room. He wasn’t sure if he was
supposed to, but he closed the bathroom door, leaving it unlocked. He needed a
moment.
He got into the shower. Was he supposed to crouch down? Lay down? Stay
standing? He wasn’t sure. Should he turn on the shower? That seemed to rather
detract from the appeal of being pissed on – the whole point was to feel Jim’s
piss actually on him, not to see it wash down the drain. But, once again, he
wasn’t sure. Too many decisions.
Luckily someone was here to make them for him.
“Down on your knees,” Jim said. Sebastian hadn’t even heard him come in.
He went to his knees immediately.
Jim had not only not gotten undressed, but for some reason he’d put his socks
and shoes on. He didn’t go to unzip himself, but instead reached out to
Sebastian. His fingers, cold, stroked down Sebastian’s cheek. Jim’s index
finger rested on the corner of Sebastian’s lips. His breath hitched as Jim’s
single finger traced, Sebastian’s sensitive lips tingling with excited,
electrified nerves.
“You’ve really surprised me,” Jim said.
His voice sounded more animated than Sebastian had ever heard it. There was no
weariness or boredom. He seemed…interested. In Sebastian.
“I usually know what everyone is thinking and how they feel, but I never
guessed you like me,” Jim said. His Irish accent – an accent Sebastian had been
raised to find distasteful – sent chills up Sebastian’s spine. Jim’s words
curved and elongated in special, unexpected places. Or maybe that wasn’t his
accent. Maybe that was just Jim.
“Don’t look at my cock,” Jim abruptly ordered. Sebastian wasn’t sure why, but
he only wanted to gaze up at Jim’s face, anyway. He saw Jim’s arms move, heard
a zipper unzipping, and knew Jim was exposed. But he stared determinedly up,
basking in the cool, controlled look Jim fixed upon him.
There were a few seconds of silence, and then Sebastian felt a stream of piss
jet onto his chest. It wavered at first, but then it was steady. Hotter than
he’d expected.
Fuck. He looked down. He caught a glimpse of Jim, but not enough to register
anything, and then his eyes were on his own chest, splashed with urine.
Jim redirected his flow, aiming downwards. When his piss hit Sebastian’s cock,
Sebastian moaned.
He quickly smacked his hand over his lips, but he couldn’t stop his cock from
standing at full attention.
“Look at that…” Jim murmured lowly. He reached forward with a free hand and
locked his fingers into Sebastian’s hair. He pulled firmly.
Sebastian had to close his eyes. This whole fucking situation was too hot, too
surreal, and he was going to come if he looked up at Jim. Fuck, fuck. He
couldn’t believe Jim would do something like this. That anyone else could like
this sick kind of shit, the kind of shit he dreamed of day after day.
The stream stopped. Sebastian looked again, dropping his hand from his mouth.
Jim must have rushed to cover himself, because by the time Sebastian opened his
eyes Jim had already zippered himself up again.
“You’re hard.” In his thick, Irish brogue, Jim mused, “It’s big. Thick.” For
being younger than Sebastian, his voice was quite deep. He spoke slowly, in a
deliberate manner, and Sebastian was positive that Jim’s pronounced ck sound at
the end of ‘thick’ had been intended to go straight to Sebastian’s cock.
“I was expecting that. For you to be proportional, of course,” Jim continued.
“But I’m not disappointed. Not at all…” His voice trailed off into a kind of
formless growl. Sebastian bit his lip, exerting all of his control not to
whimper. Fuck. How did Jim growl like that, so low in his throat?
“How big is it?” Jim asked. He stuck his foot forward and stroked along its
length with the leather toe of his shoe.
He laughed when Sebastian readily supplied his exact measurements.
“Your cock makes you feel like a man,” Jim said. “How would you feel if I made
you helplessly come with just the toe of my shoe?”
Sebastian breathed, “Amazing, Jim.”
Jim’s eyes flashed with surprise and he chuckled. Sebastian received another
delighted shock from the sound of Jim’s laughter, adding to the hard feel of
his shoe, stroking up and down his cock. The piss was drying on his skin now,
and he could smell it, but he didn’t mind.
He hissed. Fuck, fuck, that felt good.
“Does it?” Jim said, pulling harder at Sebastian’s hair. He hadn’t realized
he’d been speaking aloud. “Open your eyes.”
Sebastian opened his eyes. The downward sight that greeted him was of Jim’s
shoe on his cock.
That did it.
“Fuck!” he shouted, arm swinging out to hit the shower wall as he came. His
come shot out, hitting Jim’s trousers and the shower floor.
“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, leaning his head back against the shower wall. Jim didn’t
move his arm, so his grip on Sebastian’s hair tightened.
It took Sebastian a moment to compose himself enough to look up again.
Jim eyes were blazing, calculating. Usually he wore a cold, robotic expression
when he went all observational and analytical. But right now he looked fiery,
as if determined to take note of every interesting behavior of the examined
species before him.
Sebastian did, indeed, feel like a part of a scientist’s experiment. But going
by Jim’s look, the experiment had went well.
Sebastian grinned.
Jim let go of Sebastian’s hair, which seemed to signify the end of something.
Sebastian wasn’t sure what. He did, however, now feel that it would be alright
for him to speak in full sentences.
“Hypothesis proven?” he asked.
“Thoroughly,” Jim answered, still looking down at him. Sebastian could tell
Jim’s thoughts were racing; he wanted to have some idea of what those thoughts
were, but doubted he’d understand even a quarter of them. He wished he could
think of interesting things to say, to keep Jim’s attention for even a few more
seconds. Jim had never paid attention to him for this long before.
It was Jim who spoke next.
“Can I make you lick the come off my trousers?” he asked.
“Of course,” Sebastian said, surprised Jim would phrase it as a question. If he
thought there was a chance that Sebastian wouldn’t do it, then he clearly had
no idea how much Sebastian liked this. All of this. All Jim wanted.
Sebastian could feel Jim watching silently as Sebastian went to lick the come
from his clothed legs, around his ankles. He had to get on all fours to do this
comfortably, but there wasn’t too much come. He didn’t particularly like the
taste or feel of his own come in his mouth, but he found that there was
something erotic about the texture of Jim’s trousers brushing against his
tongue. They were Jim’s trousers.
Jim watched until Sebastian was finished. Once he was done, Jim wordlessly
turned to leave the bathroom.
Sebastian was certain he’d lost Jim’s interest. He swallowed down the
disappointment, because he needed to ask Jim something before Jim shut him out
completely.
“Can I wash myself off?” Sebastian called out, hoping desperately that Jim
wouldn’t ignore him, as he often did.
Jim stopped. He turned around, eyebrows quirked up, and Sebastian realized,
with a sinking feeling of stupidity, that he wasn't supposed to ask permission.
Jim just expected him to do it.
Sebastian wanted to fade into the shower tiles right about then. Until Jim got
a pleased grin on his face.
“You’re unusual,” Jim said. It sounded like a compliment.
“You can wash off,” Jim allowed. “But I’m watching.”
Sebastian rose from the shower, switching on the water. It fell icily over him,
but his skin felt hot under the scrutiny of Jim’s gaze. He couldn’t stop
smiling.
“Whatever you like,” Sebastian said. “I’ll put on a show for you, if you want.”
He felt spoiled. This whole situation still felt like one prolonged wet dream,
but somehow he’d managed to snag Jim’s attention for at least ten more minutes.
“Yes, Moran,” said Jim, and once again he pronounced his two heavy, world-
bearing words: “I want.”
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