Chapter Text
For the first time in ages, Sebastian was bathed in a comfortable darkness. Or, as comfortable as he could get in the Ivory household. There was still tension wound tight in his spine, of course— he knew he could get caught at any moment— but for now he was alone. For just a few moments, he could breathe easy, despite the pervasive smell of dust.
He looked down at himself in the dim darkness. Small traces of him were illuminated through the light cascading in between the slots of the closet door. That was one thing he appreciated about the Ivory household: the lights— they were all that yellow sort of bulb, no blue harsh hospital lighting, which was something that put him slightly at peace, especially now.
One stripe of light traced up over his forearm, currently clad in a striped, black and white, jester-esque outfit, and he took the liberty of tracing his own fingers to follow the light. It wasn't enough. Not looking away from his forearm, he raised his fingers to his mouth and tore off his glove with the tips of his teeth. After he'd pulled up his sleeve, he took his fingers and slowly dragged them up the illuminated skin, the feeling furthered by the skin-on-skin contact.
Small goosebumps erupted over his arm. He'd been alone before the Ivory house (not that he could remember anything from the time before all that well), but it was different when that life was your choice. Now it was forced upon him.
Theoretically, he could find affection somewhere in the Ivory house, but his options weren't all that promising. Luthor and the Catmen were automatically off the table, even though Nyon wasn't so bad, and Randal seemed even worse… even though he'd probably be more than happy to oblige in whatever Sebastian supposed he might ask for. Truthfully, he didn't even know what he'd say.
So, he kept himself appeased in these small moments. Dragging his own touch along his skin, it was nothing overtly sexual… just gentle touches to make up for the exhausting lack of comfort in his new life. He exhaled quietly and flattened his palm to drag it up his arm. If only there was someone else like him here, someone he could confide in. His fingers traced the spattering of freckles that dotted his skin. A small grimace found his face as he reached the end of the available skin: where his sleeve had been rolled up.
Sebastian hated his costume. The harsh black and white was jarring against his warm-toned skin— although he was growing more and more pale, being trapped inside so regularly. Maybe soon he'd match the white fabric of his sleeve. He quickly shut down the thought and shut his eyes, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that was quickly replacing his previous feeble bliss. If he could, he'd unclip the neckpiece and shrug off his strange shirt, but he knew Luthor would be displeased if he found him in such a state. An anxious shiver ran down his spine.
He huffed quietly, annoyed at how quickly he'd found himself uncomfortable again. It felt like there was nothing but bad thoughts and bad feelings for him in the Ivory house.
His eyes flew open at the sound of a creak down the hallway. Maybe his bad thoughts had been an omen. Was Randal near? He wanted to peek through the slots in the door and check, but moving and possibly making noise was a bad idea. He drew his knees closer to his chest on instinct.
After a long moment with no additional sounds, Sebastian relaxed a little. Maybe it was just a false alarm. The Ivory house was known for making sounds on its own. He allowed himself to close his eyes and let his palm drag up his arm again, slow and gentle. In one movement, he flipped his arm over and trailed his fingers over his inner forearm. They lazily traced his tendons and the winding blue path of his veins. He let a small breath leave his lips.
Eyes still closed, he took his hand and brought it to his neck. He could feel the small dip of his collarbone when his fingers dipped below his frilly collar, then the bump of his adam's apple, then the jut of his chin as he traced upwards. Briefly, he had the urge to pretend his own hand was someone else's… but that was pathetic. He closed his eyes a little harder to dissipate the thought.
Now his hand seemed to have a mind of its own. His grip tightened just so on his chin, tilting it up slightly, before his pointer finger moved and traced his bottom lip. He dragged it downwards and let it pop back into place. The pad of his finger smeared saliva from his plush inner lip downwards and along the jut of his chin.
It was so easy though, to imagine someone else doing this to him. Maybe they'd take their fingers and push them farther into his mouth, maybe sliding them further along his tongue.
He wasn't bold enough to do something so perverted just yet, but some part deep within him wanted to. Some urge he couldn't remember having before coming to the Ivory house. This person in his mind would surely instruct him to tilt his head up— which he did, almost in a haze— and part his lips.
Almost shyly, he let his mouth fall open.
This person in his mind was barely a figment… there was no personality, no appearance— something more like a voice, telling him what to do. Although, he thought, maybe an appearance would be nice. Sebastian figured he was deep enough in this fantasy anyways to let himself picture something like that.
The only problem was: he didn't know what kind of person he'd want this sort of attention from. Lost in thought, he tentatively traced his fingers over the wet inner curve of his bottom lip, then the tips of his teeth. Maybe he'd just let his mind go where it pleased.
He imagined someone leaning over him, legs bracketing his, their sharp eyes on him and him alone. Their hair would fall over their shoulders from the angle in which they sat, and maybe… their glasses would slip down their nose... If they had glasses, that is. Mindlessly, his tongue had just barely grazed the pads of his fingers before…
Sebastian heard a sound just outside the door. Something between a gasp and a swallow. His eyes flew open again. A spike of annoyance flashed through him at the interruption of his fantasy, before his eyes adjusted to the light and he remembered that the appropriate feeling was probably fear. Registering what was in front of him, he jerked away from the door and his back hit the far wall of the closet with a dull thud. Vaguely, through the slots in the door, he could see a form— Randal's form, of course— bent to peer down at where Sebastian was curled up on the floor. Randal pressed his body to the door, peeking his eye through a slot. It seemed to almost glow in the darkness.
"Sebastian~" He cooed, "What're you doing in there?"
Randal slipped his fingers into the slots as if gripping the bars of a jail cell. Sebastian was cornered.
Met with silence, Randal made a quiet sound of indignation (something like an impatient growl, although he was still smiling), and leaned back to rip the door open. Light flooded into the small area.
"I don't like when you have fun without me." He leaned into the closet, bracing himself on the doorway with his gloved hands and abruptly cutting off the light again. His face was bathed in shadow, "You know that, don't you?"
He was now towering over Sebastian with a glint in his eyes that Sebastian was unfortunately growing familiar with. The angle at which he was leaning caused his glasses to slide slightly down the sharp bridge of his nose, and just from that something zinged up Sebastian's spine. It was a weird feeling— different from what he usually felt around Randal. It wasn't fear, (well, not solely fear), but instead something else he couldn't quite understand.
"Uh, yeah…" Sebastian mumbled, feeling a bit dizzy.
Randal made a face, squinting his eyes, and leaned in a little further. "You know how I found you this time?"
Naturally, Randal didn't wait for a response, "It's because could smell you..." A wicked little grin found him, "Or something coming off you, I should say… kukuku~"
Gross. Sebastian's lip curled up. "Okay…"
He had to get out of this closet. What had just been a safe space now felt very, very unsafe.
Before Sebastian could register it, one of Randal's thin hands reached forward and grabbed the fabric of Sebastian's shirt, yanking him upwards and out of the closet. His neck jerked back uncomfortably. Great. Another pulled muscle that'd ache later.
All at once, Randal leaned in and pressed his face to the crook of Sebastian's neck.
"What is that?" Randal exhaled against Sebastian's neck, his warm breath fanning out against Sebastian's skin. A strangled sound crawled it's way up and out of Sebastian's throat. His hands flew up to push Randal away on instinct, but Randal was holding him tightly— one fist still clutched in the fabric of his shirt— so Sebastian's hands only pawed uselessly at Randal's shoulders.
The dizzying feeling from earlier had only increased. Randal inhaled deeply from his place in the crook of Sebastian's shoulder and nudged his nose closer still against the sensitive skin of his neck. Randal was so close to his heartbeat.
"What?" Sebastian managed weakly, his fingers curling in Randal's sleeves.
Just as quick as it'd happened, Randal shoved him away. His back hit the wall for a second time that day. He'd probably feel that later too.
"You're a tough nut to crack," Randal grinned, clasping his hands professionally behind his back. His eyes were on Sebastian with a wild intensity. Randal moved closer in a sort of sway, his body angled towards Sebastian as if magnetized. One of the dangling light bulbs was framed behind Randal's head, giving him a blurry halo.
Sebastian forced himself to look at the ground, anywhere but Randal. It was hard to focus on anything but the sensation thrumming through him, which was difficult, because he knew one small slip-up with Randal would make things even worse.
"I don't know what you're talking about…" Sebastian finally said, lifting his head to meet Randal's intense gaze. It made something twist in his gut, because of course Randal couldn't look at anything normally. His eyes were narrowed menacingly, teeth showing in an unsettling smile, and his eyebrows were perched high on his forehead. He perpetually looked like he knew something Sebastian didn't.
Randal huffed as he leaned back into Sebastian's space. The way he moved was strange— he seemed to inhale and rise with the motion, then exhale, swell, and fall closer to Sebastian. His face tucked lazily back into Sebastian's neck, causing Sebastian's skin to crawl with instinctive sensation. Feelings clashed within him: an automatic disgust as he curved away from Randal, his back pressing further against the wall, that fought with a new urge to close his eyes and relax into the feeling, like he had in the closet.
For Randal's standards, this was gentle. His body crowded against Sebastian with a languid assurance that came with Randal's perpetually overconfident attitude, as his hands still stayed professionally clasped behind his back.
"I liked that show, earlier." Randal murmured against Sebastian's skin. Sebastian could feel Randal's lips graze the side of his neck. His head rested on Sebastian's shoulder with a firm pressure. Close to Sebastian's ear, Randal's voice was lower than usual— maybe trying to elicit some sort of response from Sebastian. He couldn't tell if it was working. "The TV never shows me anything like that."
"What show?" Sebastian breathed, absently cursing himself for the way his breath shook.
"Shhh..Shut up. You're distracting me." Randal hissed through his teeth. His hands finally came up to brace himself on Sebastian's shoulders, inadvertently pushing him more firmly into the wall. Sebastian's own hands hovered uselessly by Randal's sides, wires crossing in his brain… He couldn't bring himself to push Randal off just yet.
Randal moved from one side of Sebastian's neck to the other, seeming to… smell him. With an open mouth, Randal breathed against him, letting his breath fan out over his skin again.
"Randal," Sebastian huffed, forcing his eyes open, "Seriously, what…"
"I said shut up! Ugh…"
The sharp edges of Randal's teeth grazed the side of Sebastian's neck just slightly enough for Sebastian's eyes to fly fully open. A zing skittered down his spine. Finally coming to his senses, he tried to get a hold on Randal's shirt so he could push him off.
Randal just giggled against him, shoving his hands away, "I can get some wax," He muttered into Sebastian's neck, "And put a wick on the top of your head to light you up like a candle."
"Don't… do that."
"Mmggh…" Randal whined, sounding a little like a petulant child, "You're no fun."
Quickly, he pulled away, staring at Sebastian with his hands still on his shoulders.
"I take that back, actually. Earlier was fun. You were fun then."
"Fun when?"
Randal tipped his head closer, "Your little show. How come you never do that stuff with me?"
Sebastian wriggled under Randal's grip. He was starting to get agitated.
"I already said I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb, it doesn't look good on you. Earlier with your fingers, you know…" Randal released one of Sebastian's shoulders and pulled at Sebastian's lip with gloved fingers.
A shudder ran through him at the realization.
Turned out the closet wasn't so private.