Sebastian’s chained arms had to be bothering him by now. Wesley didn’t owe the man comfort, and he hadn’t taken the chance of keeping him free. Sebastian had, after all, once kidnapped a man, and he was apparently capable of instantly flattening any opponent by using—Wesley almost couldn’t think the word—what might have beenmagic.
But Sebastian had also saved Wesley’s life.
He’d looked so helpless in the alley, unconscious and unresponsive, and despite the possible danger, Wesley hadn’t been able to leave him behind. Carrying Sebastian into a taxi and then up the stairs to his bedroom had been difficult—he wasn’t that much smaller than Wesley himself, with sleek muscles and obnoxiously perfect proportions—
Not that those actually had anything to do with carrying him. Just an observation his brain had insisted on making.
At any rate, Sebastian hadn’t woken while Wesley was carrying him, not even when Ned had appeared in wide-eyed surprise at Wesley’s singed appearance and arms full of unconscious man. Now, awake, Sebastian would occasionally reflexively flex against the handcuffs, his biceps filling out his shirtsleeves. His shirts had come untucked, and had rucked up to his ribs on one side, showing golden skin and part of a flat abdomen. Wesley hadn’t pushed the shirt or undershirt up on purpose when he’d been putting the cuffs on, but he hadn’t pulled them down either. They were now high enough to tease what the man would look like with the handcuffs but without the shirts, and combined with the memory of carrying Sebastian in his arms, Wesley’s unhelpful mind was only too happy to fill in the details.
Wesley put his elbow on the mattress and his chin in his hand. “So, Sebastian,” he said, in a conversational tone with a knife’s edge, “are you a faery or a witch?”
Sebastian made a face. It was cute, damn him. “English speakers call us paranormals,” he said, with obvious reluctance.
“You don’t look like a ghost,” Wesley pointed out. “You look like flesh and blood. And muscle.”And muscle? Christ, Wesley.“But you use magic,” he hurriedly added.
“Yes,” Sebastian admitted. “And I am very sorry I used it on you. Um. Twice.”
The sheepish look was back, and for fuck’s sake, it was distracting. The bloody accent was distracting. And his shirts had just ridden up another distracting inch—
Wesley forced himself up to his feet before his mind went down that path again. He picked up the gun. “You’re a paranormal, then,” he said, opening the nightstand drawer, “and I suppose since we’ve established you can hurt me regardless, then there’s no point in keeping you chained to my bed. Well.” His gaze stole back to Sebastian out of the corner of his eye. “No safety-related point, at any rate,” he muttered to himself.
He plucked the handcuff key out of the drawer and shut the gun away. “I assume you’d like out of those cuffs.”
Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows. “You just saw my magic. I had actually assumed you’d keep me here forever.”
“You didn’t use your magic to stop me from waving my gun in your face.” Wesley coughed. “In a manner of speaking.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “And the night before, in the alley, you could have stopped me at any moment, but you didn’t.”
“I don’t like to use my magic on the nonmagical,” Sebastian said quietly. “I don’t like to hurt anyone.”
Sebastian’s magic did not actually hurt. Wesley kept that to himself as he reached for the closest wrist, the one without a tattoo.
“I’m not a fool, Sebastian,” he said sharply, as he turned the key in the cuff. “You can’t move me with pretty words. But the undeniable fact is that you have had reasons to defend yourself, but didn’t use your magic until I threatened something else. Ergo, I believe that, at least for now, you don’t intend me harm.”
“Oh.” Sebastian shook out his arm with an almost imperceptible wince. He probably had downright vicious pins and needles, and no, Wesley did not owe him comfort, but it was uncomfortable to realize he’d caused Sebastian pain. How old was he? Surely someone with a criminal history, with magic like his, was at least as old if not older than Wesley himself? But in that moment he seemed younger, too innocent for the past Wesley knew he had. “I, um. I don’t think you’re a fool at all. You seem very smart.”
And you seem like an injured lamb lost far from home, despite having the magic to knock me on my arse with a thought.
Wesley pushed the unhelpful thought away; Sebastian might not be an immediate threat, but he was even more dangerous than Wesley could have ever imagined, and it would not do to forget that. He leaned over for the other wrist.
But as he caught sight of the tattoo, he paused. He’d noticed it earlier, of course, when he’d put the handcuffs on the unconscious Sebastian, a stunning swirl of colors that seemed almost alive. And now, with more light filling the room, he wanted a better look. He put his hand on Sebastian’s wrist, the skin chilled under Wesley’s fingers—
Sebastian took a sharp breath.
Wesley cut his eyes down.
He was stretched across Sebastian’s chest, the two of them closer than Wesley had been to another man in quite some time. Close enough to feel the anticipation of touch, to appreciate how the morning light lit the golden-brown of Sebastian’s eyes to a warm glow.
There was a polite knock on the door.
“My lord?” Ned’s voice came through the door.
Wesley hastily pulled back, yanking his hand off Sebastian’s wrist like he was a sodding schoolboy afraid of being caught, not a grown man in his own home.
“Ned,” he hissed, because his staff knew to never disturb him in his room. “You had best not have knocked for anything less than another war—”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Ned said hurriedly, “but the American woman you went to dinner with is here for you. Miss Robbins hoped I would ask you if we’ve seen her friend. A Mr. de Leon?” he finished awkwardly, mercifully not adding,is that the unconscious bloke you carried in here last night and took into your room?“I didn’t want to disappoint her,” he added. “She’s...well, she’s very pretty, sir.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. The revolution-prone French peasants Wesley employed were also weak for beautiful women.
