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Sebastian knows what it means when Jim acts even more like a brat than usual. It’s not something they ever talk about, Jim’s need for someone to sometimes put him back in his place, and they don’t have to. Sebastian doesn’t take any crap and Jim is well aware just how far he can go before Sebastian will bite back.
“It’s that time again,” Sebastian says casually over breakfast one morning. He doesn’t even look up from his newspaper, so he doesn’t see Jim throw his silent fit, but he can sense it. Jim does that every time, acts as though this isn’t something he wants, because even in front of Sebastian the man values his dignity.
Twenty minutes later, Sebastian’s finished reading his paper, so he scoots the chair back from the table and plants both feet firmly a little bit apart. Jim isn’t in the room anymore, but when Sebastian calls for him he comes around quickly. He glares as Sebastian pats his thighs, indicating for Jim to get on them, but he doesn’t protest and he does as he’s told.
Sebastian never quite gets used to the feeling Jim’s body lying across his lap. The man is smaller than he is, but too big for this, and his legs hang at an awkward angle when he places his chest and stomach over Sebastian. He’s wearing the Westwood today, the full get up, but he’s already removed his belt and Jim is just scrawny enough, has lost just enough weight since the suit was tailored, that it means that Sebastian can easily slide the trousers and pants down to bare Jim’s pale arse.
Neither of them has said a word about this yet. It’s a habit as old as any and it’s comfortable as such but also incredibly frail. Sebastian doesn’t want to break some form of unspoken trust by mentioning it and Jim... Well, who knows just how deeply the feeling of not being in control cuts?
So Sebastian lands the first slap without a word about that, either. Jim doesn’t make a sound, which is good, as it was gently; simply trying to find the ground under his feet, for now. The next blow is harder, hard enough to leave a faintly pink mark, and that is gorgeous. Sebastian loves this, that Jim trusts him enough to let him be this, and the way he’s the only man in the world who can spank Jim Moriarty raw without any repercussions of any kind.
He keeps it up, spreading the slaps out over the exposed area and watches as it turns a soft pink at first, just enough to get Jim hard against his thigh, and the gradually turn redder and redder as the erection wanes and the moans of pleasure are replaced with soft cries of pain.
By the time Sebastian is thoroughly finished, Jim’s backside doesn’t have any discernible individual hand prints on it so much as a whole lot of overlapping ones. When Sebastian rests his hand on the skin he can feel that it’s burning hot. It’s going to be bruised in the morning, Sebastian knows, but he also knows the importance of aftercare.
Jim is still sobbing gently when Sebastian helps him stand up and watches the trousers and pants fall to the floor. When they walk away, Jim will step out of them, so Sebastian turns his attention towards getting the man out of his jacket and shirt. There are too many buttons which suits him fine because that way he’s got an excuse to not look Jim in the eye as he undresses him. Once he’s got the man naked, he puts a hand on his shoulders and steers him towards the bathroom. They still haven’t spoken a word and the atmosphere lets Sebastian know that’s for the best, really. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and have Jim tell him off or order him to leave, not until he’s gotten to take care of him.
He draws a bath with that ridiculous scented oil Jim likes, and Jim gets in the bath before the water’s even an inch deep. Apparently Sebastian made the right call with heat today. He strips down too, and gets in after Jim once there’s a bit more water. The tub is big enough to easily fit them side by side, but Jim ends up halfway on top of his chest anyway, and Sebastian slides an arm around him. The tension in the air slowly dissipates as the bathwater turns cooler.
“What was it this time?” Sebastian asks. He never gets an answer, but hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.
“Oh, I was just feeling so very hopeless, and now, you’ve given my life purpose!” Jim says, in a full-bodied mock imitation of whoever the hell would say something like that, and Sebastian jabs him in the ribs just because he can. They’re not playing anymore though so Jim hits him back, and fuck, Jim’s packing one hell of a punch to be so little.
“Forget it then,” Sebastian says, settling back down in the bath with Jim held tight against his chest.
“I already did,” Jim murmurs, but Sebastian can spot a lie from a mile, and even if he couldn’t, Jim will remember any time he sits down in the morning. That, that makes Sebastian very happy.