Bit more of MorMor. This time a bit longer.
"Just like that.." Sebastian Moran handled a knife as if it was a paintbrush. An artist in his workshop. Jim loved watching Seb whenever he was working on another masterpiece. He'd just stand there, waching the scene as if it was a movie. The man in front on them was now faceless. And barely concious. Shreds of flesh were hanging from whatever was left of his face, dripping with blood, yet Sebastian was making sure he'd stay awake the entire time.
Even the smell of burnt flesh was starting to fill the room. The man, Wesley something (Jim hadn't bothered to remember the name; Faceless, nameless), had uttered a scream and with that Seb had lost his temper and had held a lighter just a little too close to Wesley's skin. Blood was now staining on the sniper's shirt and a cigarette was between his lips. Jim inhaled the pungent air around him. The smell of burnt flesh, nicotine and blood filled his nose. Seb's shirt always smelled like that whenever he came home from a 'day in the field'. Within fifteen minutes, the delicious, pungent air would be replaced by the smell of sex.
"D'you wan' to give it a try, boss?" Jim's thoughts got interrupted. Sebastian was already wiping the blood off the knife so that Jim wouldn't get dirty hands. He hated getting his hands dirty. With a wicked smile, Jim stepped forward. The knife felt light in his hand, warm because of Seb's grip. With his free hand, Jim started to unbutton Wesley's shirt. Now Sebastian was the one watching, taking a long drag from the cigarette between his index finger and thumb. He kept it between his lips, exhaling the smoke out of his nose, so he could reach over to pick up the tape. Sebastian had no idea what was coming but he decided that muffled screams would be the best background sound.
"Careful for your shoes, babe." As Sebastian walked past Jim, quickly whispering the words in his ear. Amazingly enough, the tape would still stick despite all the blood. A soon as Jim had unbottuned Wesley's shirt, he slipped off his own, overly expensive jacket and handed it to his sniper to roll up the sleeves of the white shirt. Drawing a chair near so he could sit down in fron of Wesley, he gave the man a sly grin. Jim dragged the sharp side of the knife over Wes' skin. "You know what's rather unfortunate for you?" The criminal tilted his head to the side. "Sebastian is such a long name to spell."
With that, Jim presented his boyfriend with their names carved in a human body, a living heart in between.