Sebastian looked down at Jim. The shorter man was curled up on the sofa, his head on Sebastian’s lap as he lazily watched the news. The sniper was rubbing his back in long, languid strokes and every now and then he paused, only to be reminded of his ‘duty’ by Jim arching slightly and whining.
He’d never say it to his face, but on lazy days like these, when Jim wasn’t planning a murder or throwing a lamp at Sebastian’s head, the consulting criminal was almost cute. ‘Heck’, Sebastian thought to himself, running his fingers softly through Jim’s short hair, ‘he’s fucking adorable’.