les divas, les ténors
In a split second, Sebastian's legs found themselves covered in the tale tell coolness of wet fabric clinging to dry skin. Or not exactly dry anymore. One glance down confirmed the crime, half the bucket had emptied on the doorway's floor, his feet, and a black pair of boots. A warm resistance clear, sentient against his very own, colder form. Black boots? "Ow." Oh. Well, fuck.
or, how kimi and seb met for kimi's name to be the only word hanging from seb's lips
link to chapter 1











