He looked around, the surface and tools had been prepped. Everything he needed was within reach. His smile was sharp as he picked up his tool of choice. The sharpened and sterilized blade.
He flipped the switchblade between his fingers. Muscle memory from years of doing so made the moves serpentine, sinuous.
And here we go…
He brought the blade down to the surface and began to carve.
The first lines were simple.
Swooping lines that looped in on itself. The next lines were a vertical line up, an angled line down left to right, connected to an angled live up left right to left, finished with another vertical line.
These were lines he has carved randomly into things since he first learned how to make them. The only things that changed were the tools used and surfaces being carved into.
Yes, he has left small cuts and nicks, but those did not count. It was the first time he would intentionally carve into this surface. A surface smooth and solid, yet yielding to him as he carved out his design.
His dark eyes and brows a study in concentration as he worked. A pile of crimson paper towels grew in the bin as he carved and dabbed, keeping the surface clean.
Because while he would never admit it out loud, even he understood it was the first time a carving of his was going to matter.
He raised a dark brow when the blade lifted a moment and the surface shifted slightly but then immediately stilled.
The next lines were going to be a first for him. And the last. It needed to be special and he wanted it to be as perfect as possible.
He did want to dwell on the details of what he must do in a couple of weeks, so soon!, instead chose to focus on what he must do now.
If I’m going to do this, and I must, there will be no mistaking that this is mine.
He examined his work with a critical eye before being satisfied. He carefully patted the surface dry before he gently rubbed antibiotic ointment mixed with a small amount of granulated sugar into the lines, following the design.
He sat up after he covered the carving in cling wrap and sealed the edges with medical tape. The next week was critical, but he knew his work would hold.
It will be perfect once healed.
This was his crowning achievement, literally, and he smiled to himself at the choice of words.
“Happy with your work, omega?”
Alpha Sebastian Moran, just shy of subspacing in sensation, gazed up at him with a languid crooked smile on his face. The painful pleasures that Omega Jim Moriarty is beginning to realize will be one of the cornerstones they will carve out in their relationship from here on out.
“Of course I am.” Jim grinned, taking Sebastian's hand and bringing him to the full-length mirror to see.
“It's beautiful...” Sebastian whispered reverently. His fingers caressed over, but did not actually touch the cling wrap that covered his left pectoral.
“It will be…” Jim nodded solemnly beside him. “If I must bear your mark for the rest of my life, you will bear mine.”
Sebastian smiled in the mirror, the alpha happy, in fact proud to bear Jim’s mark. It was a smile that faded seeing Jim’s face in the mirror for the feeling was not in any way reciprocated and both knew it. Jim will not happily bear Sebastian's bond mark when they marry in a couple of weeks. Jim’s hand fell to his abdomen and the reason why.
But needs must…
Right now the carving was the vivid bloody red of a fresh wound. But it will heal into a beautiful scarification. The cursive J and M initials under a crown that Jim had carved will get a daily cleaning and carefully applied irritants that will cause his design to stand out against the seemingly permanent light tan of Sebastian's complexion once healed.
The alpha was not asked if he wanted the carving. Jim laid out his supplies, flicked open the corvidae blade that Sebastian had gifted him, told him to lay down, and don't you dare move.
Neither Alpha or Omega know that in a few short years not only will Jim look on that bond mark with pride, but also Sebastian's initials that Jim himself will ask Sebastian to carve on his left pectoral.
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