A world weary weapon of a man.

@moranormoron bared their pretty throat : 🫣

‘That look on your face is indecent. Bold, considering I’m the one with my hand on myself.’

Sebastian’s arrival earned him a glance over one shoulder, sharp enough to accuse and amused enough to ruin the accusation entirely. Of course his husband had chosen that exact second to wander in, because marriage apparently came with sacred vows, shared devotion, and a complete disregard for closed doors. Lucien was sprawled across the bed with the sheets low, hair mussed, one hand still resting in a position that made innocence a truly heroic fantasy, and yet he made no effort to cover himself. Why would he? Sebastian had seen him in far worse states. Bloodied. Furious. Half-asleep. Thoroughly wrecked. Even once attempting to mend something in the kitchen with confidence so misplaced it should have been studied by theologians. This, frankly, was mild by comparison. ( Still. Walking in while a man was entertaining himself? Rude. Conveniently timed, perhaps. But fucking rude. ) His gaze travelled over Sebastian with shameless appraisal, taking in the gall of him standing there like he had discovered a private show and intended to admire it from a distance. Absolutely not. If Sebastian wanted the view, he could earn the privilege of improving it.

‘Are you just going to keep staring, darling, or do you plan to come over here and remind me why I usually prefer your hand?’

Sebastian let the door click shut behind him, the sound agonizingly loud in the temporary silence of the room. One eyebrow arched - a practiced blend of mock disapproval and dangerous, sharp-edged delight. Fate had a wicked sense of timing, or perhaps it was simply his own. He wasn't about to dedicate too much thought as to which flip of the coin had granted him this particular gift.

There Lucien lay, the very portrait of unrepentant indulgence. For a heartbeat, Sebastian couldn’t decide whether to approach or simply let his gaze linger a moment longer, cruel and unhurried, just to see if he could make the other man squirm beneath it.

As if he needed an invitation to stare. Lucien was a walking temptation even on his worst days; catching him in such a state was an almost unfair advantage on his part. Marriage was a beautiful trap in that regard - all the time in the world to watch, unashamed, without ever needing an excuse. Not that the sniper had ever offered one previously besides blatant enjoyment.

"Indecent, am I?" Sebastian drawled. His voice was low, velvet-rough, and laced with a jagged edge of amusement. "Pot calling the kettle a filthy liar, love."

His gaze drifted down the exposed line of Lucien’s body, moving slowly enough to be a caress, before flicking back up to settle on his face once more. A crooked smirk tugged at his mouth, exposing the slight chip in his canine and no intention of backing down now.

"Though I suppose I should be flattered you were thinking of me," he added, his tone softening into something more dangerous. "Or was that just wishful thinking on my part?"

He crossed the room with a predator’s lazy confidence. Shedding his shirt in one fluid motion, eyes never once breaking contact with the enticing mess of sheets and skin. When he reached the edge of the bed, he paused, tilting his head with a look of mock philosophical weight, as if balancing the merits of his next move was a matter of urgency rather than a predetermined, inevitable conclusion.

"Though I'll admit, you make a compelling argument. And my ego-" he murmured, leaning down until their breath mingled , arms bracing firmly either side, "-demands I prove I’m entirely irreplaceable."

Stiles was in the middle of a thriller film, eyes locked on the screen, when the sound of SOMETHING crashing onto the floor behind him made him jump off the couch. He quickly spun on his heel to see what it was, but oops, he slipped because his socks were slippery and fell right on his ass hard. ❝ Fuck. Look, if you are here to kil- Sebastian? What the fuck are you doing?? I gave you a key, and you chose the window? Why do people always use windows to get into my house? You scared the shit out of me.❞ He hopped onto his feet and walked over to where Sebastian was. ❝ My head would hurt too if I smelled like a bar.❞ There's a shake of his head, grabbing the other by his arm and attempting to get him to his feet.

Sebastian let out a low, grumbled laugh as Stiles hauled him upright, his body swaying in that loose, unhelpful way that made him feel less like a person and more like a puppet whose strings have been cut. The evening worth of bottom shelf whiskey was still sloshing somewhere behind his eyes, tilting the room at angles that were genuinely impressive given that rooms , realistically , did not do that.

"Window was closer," he said, with the misguided patience of a man explaining something he believes to be very obvious to someone oblivious. His hand found Stiles' shoulder and gripped it. The other went to the back of his neck, probing gingerly at what was going to be a spectacular bruise. "Door's too... door-y. All that business with the key. Key's somewhere. Bushes, maybe. Could be my other pants." He thought about it for a moment. "Don't rule out the bushes."

He blinked, slow and deliberate, trying to pull Stiles' face into something resembling focus. Mostly he got the general impression of it. Familiar enough. That worked.

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, a little sheepish, a little unrepentant.

"Didn't mean to scare you." He said it like he meant it, which he did, tucked under his own amusement. "Just needed to see my favorite pain in the ass. That's not a crime."

He swayed a fraction closer, his forehead nearly connecting with Stiles' in a way that was either very affectionate or a magnificent failure of balance. Could have been both. A narrowly missed headbutt from any other angle.

His grip on Stiles' shoulder tightened fractionally as gravity registered another quiet complaint.

"Fuck, my ass hurts almost as much as my head - should've stuck the landing."

@moranormoron : “   okay ,   i  swear  this  is  not  what  it  looks  like .   ”

‘That is not, in any universe, a comforting sentence.’

The dry remark came out on instinct, but the moment Adrian got a proper look at Sebastian, the rest of it died. His eyes went straight to the injury, quick and exact, taking in the blood, the way he was standing, the careful sort of posture people used when they were pretending not to be in pain and doing a very poor job of it. He stepped in without hesitation, one hand finding Sebastian’s side with deliberate care, ready to steady him before pride did something stupid. Adrian’s concern never arrived with Lucien’s flavour of drama or teeth. It came colder, cleaner, like a list assembling itself in real time. How bad, how deep, how long ago, where were they going, who needed calling. ( Sebastian being Lucien’s problem on paper did absolutely nothing to stop Adrian caring now that he was right in front of him like this, pale and wounded and still trying to bluff through it. ) His jaw tightened as he looked him over again, already irritated with Sebastian, but the irritation was thin compared to the worry under it.

‘Come here, and don’t insult both of us by pretending that’s nothing.’

The sound that came out wasn't a laugh. Sebastian had aimed for one, had the shape of it ready, the framework of dismissal fully assembled, but what arrived instead was thin and cut short by the pull across his ribs when he shifted his weight. He felt the shirt peel from his skin where the blood had dried to adhesive. An unpleasant reminder, at the very least. He kept his face arranged in something approximating indifference. A mask that was barely holding together despite his best efforts, and he knew it.

Adrian's hand caught his side before he could step back.

Not a grab. Precise, like a bracket, like something that had already calculated the necessity of the movement before Sebastian had even decided on his own body's intentions. It was the feeling of it that landed wrong. No hesitation. No asking. Just the placement, and then the expectant waiting.

His jaw tightened a fraction.

"Alright." The word arrived lower than he'd intended, stripped of most of its edge on the way out, and what remained wasn't quite the tone he'd been going for - it was fragile. He held Adrian's gaze with what was left of a glare, the kind that had the shape of defiance without the heat underneath it. "Some idiot got lucky with a knife. That's all. Nothing worth fussing over."

Sebastian swallowed. His throat worked around nothing but his own growing unease at being so closely observed, at the particular indignity of someone watching him calculate how much longer he could remain convincingly upright.

"I just need to sit down - No hospitals. No doctors or so help me-."

"You have delusions of adequacy."

"Shock me. Say something intelligent."

"I’m not insulting you, I’m describing you."

"You only annoy me when you're breathing."

"If you were twice as smart, you'd still be stupid."

"You’re the reason God created the middle finger."

"You have miles to go before you reach mediocre."

"If I had a face like yours, I would sue my parents."

"I’m jealous of all the people who haven’t met you."

"I’m busy right now, can I ignore you another time?"

"Hold on, I’m trying to imagine you with personality."

"You are more disappointing than an unsalted pretzel."

"Well, aren’t you just sweet as a cookie full of arsenic..."

"Someday you’ll go far. And I really hope you stay there."

"I'll never forget the first time we met… but I'll keep trying."

"Don’t be ashamed of who you are. That’s your parent’s job."

"I thought of you today. It reminded me to take out the trash."

"I’d challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you’re unarmed."

"If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest person on earth."

"You have your entire life to be an idiot. Why not take today off?"

"You're a person of rare intelligence. It's rare when you show any."

"If I wanted to die, I would climb to your ego and jump to your IQ."

"Two wrongs don’t make a right. Take your parents, for instance."

"How do you manage to carry your enormous ego around with you?"

"If you are going to be two faced, at least make one of them pretty."

"The only thing that goes erect when I'm near you is my middle finger."

"My days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle."

"A thought crossed your mind? Must have been a long and lonely journey."

"I don't exactly hate you, but if you were on fire and I had water, I'd drink it."

"I find the fact that you’ve lived this long both surprising and disappointing."

"It's kinda sad watching you attempt to fit your entire vocabulary into one sentence."

"Somewhere out there, a tree works hard to give you oxygen. You owe it an apology."

"You didn't just fall out of the stupid tree. You got dragged through dumbass forest."

"I'd like to see things from your point of view, but I can't get my head that far up my ass."

"You must have been born on a highway, 'cause that's where most accidents happen!"

JOEL KINNAMAN