Originally entitled "Sport" for its theme, this is my favorite of the drabbles so far. Hnn, Sebastian...Thank you, Azii, for letting me use Alex~ iludarling

Some people call it a sport. Sebastian calls it an art.

Of course, that might have been for purely selfish reason. Sports are rules; art has none. Art is free of the restrictions enforced upon those debacles hailed as sports and is, besides that point, intended to derail those fragile human emotions that Sebastian loves. That is why what he does best is an art.

Art takes back roads, like Sebastan's fingers as they entertain little ballets across Alexandra's shoulder blades. She arches subtly under his caress, affording him the opportunity to press a serpentine tongue to her pulse and hear her try to stifle the gasp it elicits. With one elegant hand descending so that her hips could lift and fit neatly to his, he hooks his fangs carefully into the lace of her brassiere and gives a playful tug. By now, her nails are digging into his shoulders, but sometimes art requires a sacrifice of the artist.

Her attempts at repressing her reactions to the heat of his touch fail when he throws those luscious legs of hers over his shoulders. Art makes people react violently, like the buck of Alexandra's hips as he folds her carefully in half like a sheet of silk. Sweat makes her pretty skin shimmer in the dim candle light, her muscles trembling as they are molded into positions the human body was never meant to endure. Sometimes art takes time, and sometimes, Sebastian thinks as he feels her hands tangle in his hair, Alex could use a little more patience. He must admit, however, lifting his head and staring into his master's eyes as he drags his tongue slowly over his lips: he does not mind.

"Impatient?" he breathes out lowly. "My my, Master. What a short time it takes to arouse you…"

He is crawling over top of her prone body when she rolls out from under him and reaches for her robe. Her eyes are hard, and he has to fight the languorous simper slinking its way across his lips. A short time to become incensed, too.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Master when we are—"

"Indecorous? Perhaps a thousand, Master," he drawls, this time with purpose. "With your imperious nature at times, I daresay I thought you might like the role of a dominatrix. Was I wrong?"

"Very," she answers tersely.

"Then let me apologize," whispers his disembodied voice as his body reforms from the shadows behind her, "and try again…Sasha…"

There are times when an artist makes mistakes. Using Isaac's old pet name for his master is one of them. She stiffens and extricates her supple form from his arms, enshrouding its delicate artistry from his sight. The door slams behind her exit, but Sebastian only smiles.

Some call it sport. Sebastian calls it art, and the chase is his favorite part.

Leave a review, please and thank you~.