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Thomas was dozing, securely curled into the blankets. He felt every one of his bones and muscles aching, his body tingling from the sensations that had just poured through every fibre of his being, like a strange, wonderful combination of pain and pleasure. He wasn’t so young anymore, and the adrenaline he once felt had drained, making him more aware of the ache in his sixty-two-year-old body.
The pain was easy to ignore, though. He was in such a state of bliss, the pleasure Vincent made him feel lingered in his body, like a ghost sensation. His body still recalled the kisses Vincent had placed, his hands wandering everywhere, mapping a newfound land he couldn’t wait to explore… He still felt the hickeys and bites he left on his throat and shoulders, still felt the marks on his hips left by hands used to ground him on the bed as he took him. He still felt the soreness between his tights. He had been so full of him and his love he felt empty down there.
His fingertips reached to gently touch his lips, turned raw and swollen from the countless kisses they had shared. He discovered how kissing was a vital, engaging, and addicting act; he couldn’t get enough of kissing Vincent. His lips weren’t only meant for prayers and homilies; he knew it now. They were also meant to adore his beloved and prove his devotion to him.
Vincent, it seemed, had come to the same conclusion. Thomas was sure that almost every inch of his body had been kissed or touched, as if Vincent were a starved man and Thomas the only one who could quench his hunger. And, oh! His gaze was all encompassing, all consuming, and Thomas realised that if he was exposed to it enough, he’d become addicted. Everything about Vincent was addicting. His beautiful black hair, his soft skin, his dark eyes, the firmness of his hand, the way his accent became more pronounced when he was tired, or when his voice was rough with desire.
Vincent had been so careful with him, hesitant at first, until Thomas encouraged him to keep going – oh God, don’t stop now!!
It was their first time making love, and it showed. The movements of their lips and bodies were still inexperienced and awkward. Undressing one another had been a nightmare. In their haste, they made the process slower than usual. Vincent cursed when trying to unbutton his lover’s cassock, and carelessly threw aside his own papal cassock, much to Thomas’ dismay. There were moments where they felt very clumsy and foolish. They restlessly struggled on the bed, resulting in elbowing and hair pulling, until they found a position that wouldn’t hurt their backs and knees. It also took them a while to kiss without clashing their teeth or accidentally biting the other’s lips or tongue.
It had been so messy and so clumsy, they had to stop for a moment to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Nonetheless, the desire in them had been sincere enough to lead the way throughout their lovemaking. Thomas had found some parts of him that were sensitive and ticklish. Like the skin behind his ears, or the way he moaned helplessly when Vincent had bit and licked his nipples until they ached with overstimulation. He also found the spots where Vincent liked to be kissed and teased, like the skin of his collarbones and his navel. He learned how pulling Vincent’s hair sent a wave of arousal through him.
It had been both an awkward and wonderful experience, made of bones colliding, clumsy moves, of sweat in their hair and glistening on their chests, of moans, of messy kisses, sweet words whispered against skin, sensuous caresses and powerful jolts of pleasure.
Yet, for all the awkwardness, there had been a confidence in Vincent’s touch. In the way he would leave his mark on him, the way his hands kept him in place, or when he snatched Thomas’ hands away from his eyes when he tried to cover them.
Don’t you dare hide away, not when you’re so beautiful, especially in this moment.Your face is glowing with pleasure, he’d said, his words making him flush.
Part of him felt that he didn’t deserve it… but he was a weak man. To be able to lie at his side, in his arms; to be called by names of tenderness; to be worshipped as if he was something to be adored; to feel his weight pressing him into the mattress… He relished in these unfamiliar but wonderful feelings.
He had wanted things he couldn’t quite name, all he knew was this desire to be close to Vincent, to be totally consumed by him and to consume him in return. He wanted to lavish him with attention, to reciprocate all the love Vincent was laying upon him. He wanted to map his body with his lips and his hands, to discover the best spots to make Vincent scream and moan, to drive him crazy just like Vincent drove him crazy.
There was a firmness and desperation in Vincent’s touch, like he couldn’t get enough and wanted the moment to last forever. He recalled how Vincent had shaken against him, his cock pulsing in Thomas’ hand, how he moaned against his skin, his trembling body rubbing against him so much that all of Thomas’ senses had been overcome by Vincent.
Vincent’s excessive desire and affection gave Thomas feelings of heavenly love and happiness he never thought he would have ever experienced in his life. The feelings his exquisite caresses and kisses brought him, like the burning sensation in his skin, the bolt of lightning and sheer power which pleasure brought him, left him shaken and warm. His whole body tensed before releasing in waves of pleasure.
He never knew sex could feel like this. Messy, hot and wonderful. He had wondered thoughtful his life, but never had he acted on it, until last night. He was no stranger to desire. He knew what it felt to desire someone and to be desired. But this, this moment they shared, it was unlike anything he had ever felt, seen or experienced. It was both crushing and wonderful. He feared he might become insatiable.
Their lovemaking had left marks on his skin: bruises, hickeys and bites. Thomas hoped they would fade slowly, so he could keep them as long as possible, as a reminder of Vincent and the moment they shared.
He sighed happily and burrowed back under the blankets, not quite to fall into slumber but rather to cozy up into the softness and the warmth of the bed.
Moments later, he felt the mattress dipping next to him and someone leaning over his side. Vincent kissed the back of his shoulder and Thomas smiled at the sensation of soft strands tickling his skin. He felt Vincent wrapping an arm around him, his hand warm on Thomas’ hip. His smell tingled his nose and Thomas leaned in against Vincent’s body.
They stayed like this for a few, sublime seconds of bliss. Then, Thomas rolled onto his back. There was still enough light in the room for him to see Vincent had changed into pyjama pants. Pleasure tingled at his chest when he noticed Vincent had put on Thomas’ own cardigan. It was a bit too large and loose on him, but Vincent looked quite adorable in it.
Vincent leaned in and pecked his lips before he freed his arm to reach for something behind him. Thomas watched as Vincent brought over a tray which he had filled with two plates of fruits and pastries. Thomas blinked. Had Vincent brought him breakfast in bed?
“I thought you might be hungry, after we… hum…”
His cheeks flushed pink. Thomas hid an amused smile. Vincent had fucked him right into the mattress, even leaving marks in the heat of his passion, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to say the words “sex” or “fucking”. Though, if you asked Vincent, he would probably say it was mostly “making love”, as he thought the word “fucking” to be too crude and unfitting of the intimate moment they shared.
“So I brought us breakfast,” Vincent finished.
“I see,” Thomas gently replied, moved by the attention.
He couldn’t help but smile. Quite early into their relationship, he had discovered one of Vincent’s goals during his papacy was to ensure Thomas was well fed. Perhaps it had been a consequence of seeing his unhealthy habits during the conclave, or maybe Aldo or Ray had confided in him about the matter. Thomas supposed it didn’t matter, but he had been quite surprised back then to see how seriously Vincent took the matter into his own hands. He would discretely leave candies in Thomas’ pocket when he wasn’t looking, or he would fill his plate with more food than Thomas would usually take, or he would ask for Ray to bring pastries to meetings for everyone to share. Thomas had soon learned how stubborn Vincent was. He didn’t take “no” for an answer and would rather feed Thomas by hand himself, if it meant putting some food into him, so he quickly learned to comply with Vincent’s wishes.
Vincent smiled, then he picked up a grape. He held it up to Thomas’ mouth, offering it. Thomas looked up at him, bemused. He didn’t expect Vincent to want to feed him by hand, he thought about gently refusing, arguing he was fully able to feed himself, but the hopeful look in Vincent’s eyes and his smile made him pause.
Ah… really… He couldn’t refuse anything from his dear Vincent.
Thomas leaned in and took the fruit into his mouth, his lips brushing Vincent’s fingertips. He slowly chewed, enjoying the sweet taste of the grape.
Vincent leaned down and kissed him, sharing the flavour between them. Thomas’ stomach clenched from hunger, not so much for food, but for Vincent. His warmth, his kisses, his touch, his mere presence.
He accepted the next bite Vincent offered, and the next, and the one after that. Then, they took turns in feeding each other. Thomas would offer some mango slice, letting the juice flow down his fingers. Vincent’s lips lingered at his fingertips, then he took Thomas’ hand into his, licking with infinite care and slowly cleaning up his fingers, collecting the sweet juice.
He looked up at him. His eyes were darkened with desire.
“Mmm,” he said. “My favourite taste.” His voice had a roughness to it, something that usually happened when he was aroused. Thomas shivered.
“Mango?” he asked, his voice suddenly weak.
“That, and yours too.” He winked at him and Thomas felt another wave of shivers. This man had lived a life of celibacy until he was fifty-four. How come he was this good at acting so smooth? He excelled in driving Thomas insane.
Vincent leaned in and pecked his lips, then he let himself rest against Thomas’ chest. He was warm and soft against him, and Thomas still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have this man at his side. A tender feeling bloomed inside his chest, so soft and fond. He pressed a kiss into Vincent’s hair, taking in his familiar and comforting scent. His hand wandered up and down Vincent’s back in a slow caress.
Vincent sighed in contentment against his chest. “Mi tesoro,” he mumbled. Thomas shivered, as he always did when Vincent called him sweet names in his mother tongue. He suspected Vincent knew the effect it had on him, and that he would occasionally use these names to make him flush and stutter. In these moments, Vincent was nothing like his papal name.
Thomas honestly couldn’t blame him. As much as Vincent drove him insane at times, he also loved him because of his playful personality. Nothing delighted him more than to see his smile, bright and wide, and to hear him laughing.
Vincent shifted against him and leaned in to seal his mouth with another kiss, this one deeper and slower, his tongue teasing Thomas’ lips, asking for entrance. Thomas allowed it, feeling a shiver running through his body. For someone who never kissed anyone in the first fifty-four years of his life, Vincent surprisingly and quickly became quite good at this art, not that Thomas had anyone to compare to. It had been years, decades even, since he last kissed someone. Maybe it was his love for Vincent speaking, but Thomas found every kiss from Vincent exquisite.
He was so busy reciprocating Vincent’s kisses that he barely noticed his lover’s hands were wandering up his arms, down his back, then to his hips. Only when Vincent’s fingers reached underneath the covers, where Thomas was still naked, did Thomas break from the kiss.
“Vincent…” he mumbled against his lips, at a loss for words. He found the situation quite ironic. People praised him for his eloquence and his way with words; yet in this moment, Vincent’s touches were making him speechless. The power this man had over him was insane.
He forced himself to be still, even though he wanted nothing more than to arch into Vincent’s touch, yearning for more.
“What time is it?” Vincent asked against his skin.
Thomas blinked, taken aback by the sudden and unexpected question. Nonetheless, he looked around for the clock.
“It’s 5 am,” he said. It was still very early; dawn was slowly approaching, but the Vatican was still in deep slumber. The day hadn’t started yet; their alarm clock wouldn’t ring for another two more hours.
Vincent’s smile was mischievous, his eyes sparkling with a playful gleam Thomas had grown to recognize and to love.
“We still have a bit more time then…” he said, his accent thickening with arousal.
Thomas hummed, a smile forming on his lips. He could definitely see where Vincent was going.
“What do we have time for, then?” he asked, playing dumb. He knew how much Vincent loved it when he was in a high-spirited mood.
Vincent’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his smile widening. “I’m sure you must have an idea.” he said.
Thomas put his hand on his chin and pretended to think.
“Hm… I confess I don’t, my dear.” He looked at him, with an inviting smile on his lips. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
Vincent chuckled. “Gladly!” he said. Then, he closed the distance between them, and Thomas felt his hand reaching for his arousal. He arched his back and closed his eyes, relishing into Vincent’s touch.
It was bliss, he thought. Complete, utter bliss.