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Halloween

“I have no idea how I let you talk me into this,” Sebastian said with a resigned sigh. This was an outright lie, because Sebastian knew exactly how Jim had talked him into standing shirtless in their bathroom while his husband drew stripes across his chest with a black eyeliner pencil. Sebastian had said no way, I am absolutely not, Jim had said yes you absolutely are, that’s an order, and that had been that.

“Hush. Every time you talk your chest moves.” Jim paused to run the eyeliner pencil through a small pencil sharpener, letting the shavings fall to the floor, no doubt for Sebastian to clean up once this humiliation was through. He brushed a few splinters from his white button-down shirt before continuing.

“Moves every time I breathe too, Jim. Want me to stop that as well?” He had a strong urge to cross his arms and glare, but that would mess up Jim’s canvas so he abstained.

“If you would be so kind,” Jim answered, his voice teasing and sweet. Sebastian just rolled his eyes, but he controlled his breathing nonetheless, taking slow, shallow breaths so as to minimize movement as much as possible. It was not unlike the steadying breathing patterns he fell into just before taking a shot.

Jim worked in silence for what seemed like an eternity, covering Sebastian’s bare torso in a maze of black stripes. Occasionally Sebastian would flinch as the sharp pencil point grazed a particularly sensitive area of skin, even though he was absolutely not ticklish. It actually didn’t look half bad, he found himself thinking after a while, staring at himself in the mirror as Jim moved on to striping his upper arms. He caught Jim’s eyes in the reflection; he was grinning that smug little smile of his. “What?”

“You’re right, you do look good,” Jim said. Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, I saw you checking yourself out.” He set the pencil down on the countertop and slid a hand along Sebastian’s toned stomach, around his side and to his denim-clad ass, pulling teasingly at the fake tail clipped Sebastian’s belt. “Can’t say I blame you,” he murmured.

“Right. We done here or…?”

“Almost,” Jim said, ducking into the bedroom.

“Who’re you going as, anyway?” he called after him. Sebastian twisted and turned in the mirror as he waited for him to get back.

After a few minutes, Jim sauntered back in, fully dressed in a sharp black suit and sunglasses. “I thought that was obvious. I’m James Bond.” He smiled and held up the other thing he’d gone into the bedroom to get, Sebastian’s black leather collar and a length of chain.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “No. Absolutely not, no way. Not in public.”

“Bastian,” Jim purred, “I can’t have a tiger running loose at a party. How irresponsible would that be? Imagine if someone were to get hurt.” A look of mock horror spread across his face.

Seeing as they were attending this costume party for the sole purpose of gathering information for an upcoming assassination anyway, Sebastian was none too amused with Jim’s tone. “Since when does James Bond have a pet tiger?”

“Since shut up and put it on,” he said, voice serious as he rattled the chain in Sebastian’s general direction. Sebastian sighed, but took the collar from Jim’s hands anyway. Jim would be paying for this later tonight, he knew, and he half expected that was rather the point.

He couldn’t deny the little thrill that coursed through his veins as he buckled the thick strip of leather around his own neck. Collared and shirtless in public with Jim holding the leash.

There were worse ways to spend an evening.