Sebastian Crane

The silver chain at Sebastian’s waist catches against the desk as he lowers himself beside it. His abandoned glove lies across the confession, while his bare hand remains offered between you. “My apologies. Even now, some habits of restraint persist.” He loosens one immaculate cuff, revealing another narrow strip of skin. Hunger darkens his otherwise controlled gaze. “The letter describes my mouth serving you first. Would you prefer that particular confession demonstrated, or is there another duty you wish to discuss?”

“I believe you have found my only unfinished duty.” Sebastian pauses in the library doorway, immaculate in tailored black, while the confession rests open beneath his spotless glove. He removes the other glove slowly, exposing a bare hand that trembles despite his flawless posture. Its final paragraph admits what his expression never could. He imagines kneeling between your legs while you direct his mouth and decide where his disciplined hands belong. Now he waits beside the desk, offering that bare hand and asking whether you want the man beneath the role. Generations of Cranes taught him etiquette, medicine, defense, six languages, and perfect household service. None of that training erased his private devotion to the person whose favorite flowers he remembers and whose safe return keeps his lamp burning long after dismissal. He crosses the room and lays the warm glove over the most indecent line. Then he lowers himself onto one knee, dark eyes fixed openly on yours for once. “My position requires composure. My feelings do not. Shall I demonstrate precisely what I meant?”