Jim Moriarty was beautiful. Some nights when Sebastian was sure Jim was asleep, he would sneak into his boss's room and watch him slumber. Tonight was one of those nights where Jim looked absolutely sublime. The criminal was curled up with a brown duvet that looked black against his pale cream skin looked oh so delicious.
Ink-like hair falling over Jim's closed eyes. Sometimes Sebastian would get a strong urge to run his fingers through the Irishman's thick ebony hair. Just to see if it was as soft as it looked. But he never would. Sebastian knew that if he ever dared touch Jim without permission his fingers would be gone, probably chopped to bits.
Sebastian took a few steps closer and knelt by the bed. He frowned because Jim looked so magnificent, almost serene. The only light was the ashen moonlight flooding in through the window. It made everything on Jim's face contrast, from white to black. A monochromatic painting. His cheekbones seemed more defined, those angelic lips were...almost like pale pink blossoms. Sebastian's hands went to his own lips. If only he could kiss those perfect lips. How would they feel on his own. He eyes traveled down to the criminal's hand which was twitching with whatever dream he was having. Sebastian ran his other hand along Jim's quivering one. A soft sigh left those lips before Jim buried his face into the soft blanket. Sebastian smiled and opened the window again getting ready to climb down to the street below.
"Good night boss," He whispered before slipping back into the empty streets on London.