Sebastian Moran is a Sweet Onion Cigarette
Rating: T
Warnings: Violence, General Creepiness in a Relationship
Word Count: 493
Summary: Jim and Sebastian are fucked up, but it works for them.
Sebastian pressed the burning end of his nearly-spent cigarette onto Jim’s wrist, grinding it back and forth over the bone. He stroked the burn with his fingers and pulled Jim’s hand towards his mouth, licking at the charred skin. Jim tilted his head back and sighed at the sharp sweet onion burn in his throat and his wrist, the fingertips of his free hand dancing Johann Bach over Sebastian’s bruised ribs. He smiled and brought Sebastian’s hand to his lips, biting deep into Seb’s third knuckle. He licked at the marks of his teeth.
Jim’s spine and forearms were spotted with healing burns and old scars from Seb’s cigarettes and Sebastian’s hands were covered in purple and green bruises from Jim’s teeth. Sebastian was lit cigarettes and sweet green onions between Jim’s teeth, pressing heat against his cold hands and ice over his burning mouth. Sebastian was long muscles and longer scars and blood on Jim’s skin, and he was sweat and knives and bullets in Jim’s head.
Sebastian cut out bits of Jim’s flesh for keeps and licked the wounds clean, pressing his tongue into the cuts so he could be inside of Jim. Jim traced love notes into Sebastian’s back with a sharp knife and rubbed ink mixed with his own blood into the lines so that Seb always had a piece of Jim with him, and they played Russian Roulette with a gangster’s gun and a lack of bullets because they knew that if they were going, they were going together.
Jim had always had a habit of eating sweet green onions raw and Seb learned to love the burn on his tongue and down his throat. Seb chain smoked in bed and Jim learned to crave the burn of the lit end on a bone’s end on his hip and spine and wrist, and Jim let Sebastian think he meant it when he said he’d skin Seb and make him into shoes when he was in a bad mood.
Sebastian knew he didn’t mean it, but Jim liked the way Sebastian lit up a cigarette when he said it and Sebastian knew the burn would throw him out of the mood the way that sweet onions between Jim's teeth couldn’t anymore.
Eventually, I will skin you became the way they said I love you, because it fit them that much better.
The day Jim died, he looked across the street at Sebastian with a gun in his hand and an entire universe in his eyes and mouthed three words. He pulled the trigger and shot himself into a silent supernova of red and gray, and Seb stared at his sun with the burn of sweet onion and cigarettes in his nose and throat.
I love you, too, he mouthed. He packed up his gun and pulled out Jim’s sharp knife, and cut the words into the skin over his wrist bone, letting the blood run out onto the floor.
Warnings: Violence, General Creepiness in a Relationship
Word Count: 493
Summary: Jim and Sebastian are fucked up, but it works for them.
Sebastian pressed the burning end of his nearly-spent cigarette onto Jim’s wrist, grinding it back and forth over the bone. He stroked the burn with his fingers and pulled Jim’s hand towards his mouth, licking at the charred skin. Jim tilted his head back and sighed at the sharp sweet onion burn in his throat and his wrist, the fingertips of his free hand dancing Johann Bach over Sebastian’s bruised ribs. He smiled and brought Sebastian’s hand to his lips, biting deep into Seb’s third knuckle. He licked at the marks of his teeth.
Jim’s spine and forearms were spotted with healing burns and old scars from Seb’s cigarettes and Sebastian’s hands were covered in purple and green bruises from Jim’s teeth. Sebastian was lit cigarettes and sweet green onions between Jim’s teeth, pressing heat against his cold hands and ice over his burning mouth. Sebastian was long muscles and longer scars and blood on Jim’s skin, and he was sweat and knives and bullets in Jim’s head.
Sebastian cut out bits of Jim’s flesh for keeps and licked the wounds clean, pressing his tongue into the cuts so he could be inside of Jim. Jim traced love notes into Sebastian’s back with a sharp knife and rubbed ink mixed with his own blood into the lines so that Seb always had a piece of Jim with him, and they played Russian Roulette with a gangster’s gun and a lack of bullets because they knew that if they were going, they were going together.
Jim had always had a habit of eating sweet green onions raw and Seb learned to love the burn on his tongue and down his throat. Seb chain smoked in bed and Jim learned to crave the burn of the lit end on a bone’s end on his hip and spine and wrist, and Jim let Sebastian think he meant it when he said he’d skin Seb and make him into shoes when he was in a bad mood.
Sebastian knew he didn’t mean it, but Jim liked the way Sebastian lit up a cigarette when he said it and Sebastian knew the burn would throw him out of the mood the way that sweet onions between Jim's teeth couldn’t anymore.
Eventually, I will skin you became the way they said I love you, because it fit them that much better.
The day Jim died, he looked across the street at Sebastian with a gun in his hand and an entire universe in his eyes and mouthed three words. He pulled the trigger and shot himself into a silent supernova of red and gray, and Seb stared at his sun with the burn of sweet onion and cigarettes in his nose and throat.
I love you, too, he mouthed. He packed up his gun and pulled out Jim’s sharp knife, and cut the words into the skin over his wrist bone, letting the blood run out onto the floor.