Chapter Text
Jimmy was in his favourite place, a fact he would not admit aloud under pains of death, naked and tangled up in Thomas’ long limbs. They were sticky, which was largely Jimmy’s fault. On his back, tongue down his throat, Thomas had brought him off in short, sharp strokes, holding Jimmy tight against him until he spilt between their bodies, so as not to sully the blankets. In other affairs Jimmy might’ve been moaned at, or even given a smack for being so uncouth - girls tended not to like a mess no matter where you tried to put it. Thomas, however, was quite different.
They hadn’t been sleeping together very long, not in the grand scheme of things. A month or two where Jimmy considered it proper, like, and a few weeks prior of getting so close to the real thing without taking their clothes off before Jimmy had to face the music and admit that perhaps he might have been mistaken about the bounds of who and what he got stiff for.
He’d learnt quickly that Thomas liked the mess. Jimmy didn’t quite understand it himself, but if he was ever in danger of spilling somewhere convenient or tidy, Thomas was suddenly right there to make sure not a drop was wasted into a handkerchief. He liked it in his mouth the best, which drove Jimmy to the point of distraction. It was hard not to think about it, standing primly opposite one another in the dining room, when he knew what Thomas looked like folding to his knees to take him on his tongue, head tipped back as he swallowed him to the root. But in the privacy of Thomas' bedroom - it was always Thomas' bedroom, like there was a line of salt at Jimmy's threshold that Thomas could not cross - he was just as content to let Jimmy put his mark on him practically anywhere else. Then, like now, he just lay there basking in it, stretching out like a cat in a sunbeam, looking at Jimmy half-lidded and smokey as though he’d stepped out from the pages of an erotic novel, all because Jimmy had deigned to come on his chest.
There was one place Jimmy hadn’t managed to put it, yet. Even thinking about it made him flush to his ears. By now, he was quite au fait with the simple pleasure of hands and mouths, bodies rubbing and stroking and grinding, skin to sweat soaked skin, with tongues twining and fingers grasping. But they hadn’t done that.
It wasn’t what Jimmy had expected, from being with a bloke. Tossing each other off was all well and good, don’t get him wrong, and the eagerness with which Thomas offered him his throat was certainly at the top of his rankings of things Jimmy had done in a bedroom. But, to put it frankly, they hadn’t fucked each other. Not properly. It felt like Thomas wanted to- was going to- but they hadn't. Thomas didn't. Jimmy was left with the unpleasant feeling of being suspended in mid air; that he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Jimmy mulled this over as he pulled Thomas toward him, luxuriating in the body heat he was stealing as he weaselled his leg further between Thomas’ thighs. Thomas’ prick rubbed up against him, slick and hard from where he’d leaked all over himself just watching Jimmy tumble over his peak, and Jimmy pressed himself against him, encouraging him into a rut that would surely send him over the edge soon, judging by the bitten off little gasps Thomas was making into his neck.
Jimmy never thought he’d enjoy having a grown man pressed so tightly against him, the weight of him bearing down on him. He thought he’d feel, well, trapped. In peril. Something like that ought to make him fight and kick until it stopped and someone was left bleeding. Turned out it just made him hard. Jimmy’s prick had a lot to answer for, if he ever made it to the gates of heaven.
Hands wandering, Jimmy gripped and tugged at everywhere he could reach, taking a handful of arse in one hand and pressing the other into the back of Thomas’ neck. His hair was a mess, sweat slicking down the strands at the back of his head as Jimmy ran his nails through it, poking it all up the wrong way, as Thomas bucked and writhed and- Oh. There he went, clutching him tightly as he spilled in hot spurts right against Jimmy’s hip. Jimmy bit his lip. That shouldn’t be so- so stirring. Feeling another bloke come on you. But when Thomas went limp and burrowed into him further, his chest heaving as he sucked in great lungfuls of Jimmy-scented air, Jimmy put the worry out of his mind. They were already doing this, it stood to reason that Jimmy should like it, else what was the point?
Well, now they were doubly sticky. And it was both their faults. Jimmy grinned and ran his hand down Thomas’ broad back as he slowly returned to the land of the living.
He reached for the fag packet at the bedside instinctively as Thomas rolled off him, two men crammed into a narrow bed that Jimmy suspected had seen more action in the last two months than it had in its lifetime. Thomas had told him that he wasn’t exactly celibate - there were clubs, and suchlike, places men could meet surreptitiously and have each other off without even exchanging names, but Thomas hadn’t had someone regular in years, and definitely not anyone below stairs.
Jimmy lit up and passed the fag off to Thomas almost straight away, blowing out his smoke as Thomas traced fingertips over his chest.
“You’re gorgeous, you know.”
“So you keep telling me,” Jimmy shuffled himself into a half sitting position against the headboard and slung an arm around Thomas’ shoulders, “as if you didn’t make it obvious elsewise.” Jimmy gestured to the mess cooling on his skin and pinched Thomas playfully in the arm.
Thomas gave him a cool, half-lidded look, like he hadn’t just been whining and panting on top of him, while smoking like a bloody film star. “If you don’t like how I express my affection I can find another way.”
“Well, I dunno Mr Barrow,” Jimmy teased, “it’s not like you’ve put it up me yet.”
Thomas’ face didn’t change. “D’you want me to?”
Jimmy snatched the fag back and stuck it in his mouth as he shrugged. “Never waited this long with a girl before. Thought it’d be the first thing you wanted to do to me.”
Thomas watched him for a long moment, until Jimmy started feeling itchy. He handed the fag back and fiddled with his hair.
“That wasn’t an answer,” Thomas flicked the ash off the side of the bed and took a slow drag, which didn't bloody help.
Jimmy made himself consider it; to actually think about it. On the one hand, the thought of Thomas pushing him down made something wriggle and squirm inside him, on the other… “Don’t it hurt?”
“Not particularly.”
“Oh.” Jimmy tapped his fingers against Thomas’ shoulder, then realisation dawned. “Wait, you’ve had it done to you?”
“I tend to prefer it the other way, but yes. I have had it done to me. Quite a few times.”
Jimmy turned just enough to look at him head on. He tried to picture the tall, imposing figure of Thomas Barrow bent over, legs spread, getting buggered by some faceless man. He struggled. “On purpose?”
Thomas looked at him like his head had fallen off. “As opposed to what, by accident? Sorry, sir but I seem to have fallen over and landed with your prick up my backside? Yes, on purpose," Thomas cuffed him round the back of the head. "Sometimes I was even the one to suggest it.”
“Why?”
“Has it not occurred to you that it might feel good?”
“Not really, no,” Jimmy screwed his face up in thought. From his experience, being the one on the giving end always looked a lot better than being the one on your back, half the time a girl might look bored if you didn't touch the right places first. “At best I thought it might be like, neutral. I dunno. Maybe feel good in your head that the other bloke is having a good time, because of you, or, that you might get off on being treated like a lass, like some blokes who wear women’s knickers or something.”
“You’re an odd one, Jimmy," Thomas said solemnly, "I never can tell what’s going on in that brain of yours.”
“Probably for the best.”
“Does it involve me wearing women’s knickers?”
Jimmy thumped him, his face heating. “I ain’t answering that.”
Thomas smirked. “I’d let you do it to me, if you wanted.”
“What, put you in girls’ clothes? We’d have to find a very tall girl to borrow off.”
“No,” Thomas blew a cloud of smoke to the side and settled back, one warm arm over his shoulder, “I’d let you fuck me.”
It was like time stopped. Jimmy certainly didn’t breathe. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head to try and catch Thomas’ eye.
“You’d let me. Fuck you.”
“Yes.”
“Up the arse?”
“If you like.”
Jimmy opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right response. Surely he couldn't be hearing it right. Thomas wouldn't- He was taller than him for a start, how was that even supposed to work? Not to mention he outranked him. Of the two of them, if one had to play the woman, by rights it ought to be Jimmy. That was how it was supposed to work, weren't it? Men like Thomas fell into two broad categories, and Thomas sure as anything didn't fit into the effete, daffodillic picture Jimmy had built up in his mind of the second. “Don’t you want to do that to me?”
“I’d like to, eventually, but you’re a bit green for it and you brought it up, so, I suppose, that’s the compromise.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“Why should I? You wouldn’t be the first.”
Jimmy still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. He felt indignant, on Thomas’ behalf. “In’t it emasculating?”
“Not particularly. Even if it was, didn’t think you’d care so much about my masculinity. I’m touched.”
“Oh piss off,” Jimmy snatched the fag back off him and busied himself with making sure he got his fair share of Thomas’ own tobacco, “I don’t know the first thing about giving it to a man. What if I do it wrong and hurt you, or it’s too- what if it don’t fit?”
“Oh, it’ll fit.”
The bastard! “Taken bigger, have you?”
“Do you want me to answer that?”
“No.”
“Somehow I thought you might be more excited at the prospect. You don’t have to do it. I’m happy as we are.”
“It’s not that I’m not- Look. Thomas. It’s not that I don’t want to- I mean, I’ve thought about it, I suppose, generally speaking, but usually the other way and even then-" Jimmy could tell he was spiralling and tried to reign himself in. "I’m not a blushing virgin. I’ve had plenty of girls and I know what I'm good at, but that’s just the thing. It’s girls I’ve got the experience with. I don’t know half what I’m supposed to do when it’s a bloke.”
Thomas reached over and plucked the cigarette from Jimmy’s lips and did something quite frankly lewd with his tongue as he sucked the last of it to ash.
“You’ve nowt to worry about. You don’t have to know a thing. I do, so I’ll teach you. Seeing as you don’t seem to believe me when I say it’s enjoyable, I’ll have to show you that it is.”
“Right. But if I’m bad at it you have to promise not to hold it over me," Jimmy winced at the thought. "Or tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Oh, right, of course," Thomas knocked him in the head again, "because I’d likely stand up at breakfast and let everyone know, wouldn’t I? That’d go down a treat.”
“Carson’d have a heart attack.”
“Maybe I should, then. Finish him off once and for all.”
“Serves him right.” Jimmy pulled a face, “No, actually. Let’s not. Don’t like thinking about old Eyebrows McGee when I’m naked and covered in spunk. Don’t set the right mood.”
Thomas stubbed out the dogend of the fag, tilting his head against Jimmy’s. “You looking for a second round?”
“Not tonight. I’m bushed. Maybe if you hadn’t sucked me off in the lavs right after tea I might be up for it, but right now,” Jimmy yawned, “I could sleep for a week.”
“Best be getting back to your own room, then, else they start to suspect.”
“I think they already are. You look at me all day like you want to eat me alive.”
“Who says I don’t?”
Jimmy shoved him. “None of that. Or I won’t let you suck me off in the lavs tomorrow, either.”
Thomas caught himself from falling off the bed, but dutifully made to stand anyway, crossing to his washbasin to presumably find a cloth. “You wouldn’t last a day. You’re already gagging for it by luncheon, I’m surprised you can even last through service without having to slip away to toss off between courses.”
Spreading out on Thomas' bed, Jimmy took his time to openly stare. Thomas cut an alluring figure in the half light, muscular thighs and perfect arse giving way to sharp angles at his hips, a slight swell at his stomach, and his broad, gorgeous shoulders, all pale skin and dark hair. A picture of masculine beauty, if ever there was one, normally so buttoned up one could only guess what was beneath. Jimmy had heard the maids sighing over him more than once, and Jimmy finally understood why.
“S’not my fault you look so good in your livery.”
Despite making light of it, Jimmy couldn’t stop thinking about Thomas’ offer. That Thomas wanted that from him and had just said so, plainly… Jimmy wasn’t a blushing virgin, like he’d said, but he felt like one. Even trying to picture it made him sweat. The optics were all wrong. It just didn’t seem right that Thomas would submit to him like that.
Jimmy passed the next few days in a semi-anxious semi-aroused haze, moving like an automaton through the motions of polishing silver, laying cutlery and waiting at table. He still let Thomas collar him when they had their precious free moments, but even seeing Thomas, his jacket hung up over the back of the door, kneeling primly on a hand towel as he stretched his lips around the girth of Jimmy’s cock and sucked him dry, didn’t settle him for more than half an hour.
The thing about Thomas was that he almost seemed to take as much pleasure from making Jimmy come as he did from tipping over himself. He was always hard as nails right after Jimmy filled his mouth with his release, a high flush dusting his cheeks and his pupils wide as saucers. Maybe he would like it, if Jimmy put it up him from the other end. Maybe it was part and parcel of being lavender. Jimmy wasn’t so sure about himself - what with being only half lavender. He still liked women. He’d checked. Right after he'd realised that he wanted Thomas back, he'd scurried to his room and guiltily pulled out his dirty little postcards from the back of his sock drawer. He'd brought himself off to them as usual, so all that still worked fine, and he wouldn't have a problem the next time he was confronted with a pair of tits and a wet cunt. It was increasingly clear, however, that he also seemed to like the broad expanse of a flat chest with more hair on it than he had on his own, and the hard line of a man’s cock pressed up against him.
Jimmy wasn't one for second guessing himself, so it hadn't taken him all that long to work that into his nightly self abuse. He was easy, and if it felt good, why question it? What happened in the confines of Jimmy's bedroom was between himself and his left hand, and no-one would ever be the wiser. That had worked, for a time, right up until the moment that he’d broken and kissed Thomas’ stupid mouth when they were alone in the courtyard. Perhaps he was too easy, but now he was getting it more often than he ever had even with Lady A, so he couldn’t rightly complain.
His libido hadn’t exactly slowed down as he knocked the other side of twenty five, either. In fact, knowing he had the opportunity so tantalisingly close at all hours of the day and night made it worse. His record was four times in a day, now, and he was itching to try and beat it. That day, he'd woken up churning with it. He’d snuck into Thomas’ room before the hall boy's knock and let Thomas sleepily touch his morning erection until he came into his hand. Then, after upstairs luncheon, he’d dragged him into the lavatory and let Thomas suck him dry. Still not satisfied, he'd turned in early after supper and waited in Thomas' room until he heard the tell tale creak of him on the stair.
Thomas had held both their pricks together in one hand and rutted them up against each other until they were both over the edge. Then he’d done something filthy and descended on Jimmy’s body with his mouth, and by the time he’d licked him clean, Jimmy was half-hard again. Thomas had teased him for nearly an hour with his tongue until he spilled, then jacked himself off over Jimmy’s chest until hot drops rained down on him and Jimmy had just about passed out.
The prospect of having another way they could defile each other was thrilling. And dangerous. Jimmy had been expecting Thomas to roll him over and push it into him for weeks now, but he hadn’t even touched him there. The thought of it made him squirm a bit. If the positions were reversed and Jimmy was the seasoned deviant, he was sure he wouldn’t have had the self control. But it was evident that Thomas cared about him, and probably didn’t want to scare him off, or break him, or something. So now it fell to Jimmy to be the defiler.
Downstairs supper was the usual fair, and Jimmy set about his normal routine of cards and smoking and trading backhanded jabs with Alfred as he waited for Thomas to make some indication of bedtime. He’d barely dealt himself into solitaire when Thomas made his move.
“Right, I’m going up.”
“That’s early for you, Mr Barrow!” Miss Baxter piped up, perplexingly fond as ever she was whenever Thomas was in question. It didn’t make sense to Jimmy - there was something queer going on between them but Thomas was incredibly tight lipped about it, even after Jimmy had given a good go at loosening them by other means. She was a friend of his sister, is all he’d say. They knew each other growing up. Which meant that Miss Baxter likely knew about Thomas’ proclivities more’n the rest of the staff, which made her the prime suspect for being the first one to work out about Jimmy, and what Thomas was doing to him behind closed doors. If she didn’t know already. They were always whispering in some dark corner. Was she Thomas' confidant?
“I’m going for a bath, if you must know,” Thomas sniffed and pulled his waistcoat straight, “before the rest of this lot have a chance to make it filthy.”
Jimmy’s heart thudded. He laid the next card down very carefully and willed his hand not to tremble. Thomas had explained the basics to him, briefly, and Jimmy had listened with morbid fascination to how everything was made easy and clean with simply paying attention to one's diet, a bar of Lifebuoy, and employing the requisite amount of petroleum jelly. Thomas had also said that, for Jimmy’s first foray into classical buggery, he’d make some special preparations so that Jimmy did not stand to encounter anything unexpected. It hadn't taken Jimmy long to puzzle that one out, and he had spent a few days trying not to blush over breakfast when Thomas casually added prunes to his porridge. Now he had to sit there and wait on his bloody own, or worse, across from bloody Alfred, and try not to vividly imagine what Thomas might be up to with the bulbous length of rubber tubing he’d spied in what could otherwise have been mistaken for a biscuit tin in the back of his wardrobe, all for Jimmy’s benefit.
Jimmy drummed the tabletop with his fingers and flipped the first cards over. Patience. No bloody patience, more like it. He wasn’t sure how long Thomas would be. It was agonisingly early, and Alfred was still droning on about some frog technique for fancy savoury bollocks Jimmy could not have cared less about if he tried.
He fiddled with his collar as he placed a black Jack on a red Queen. He could just go up, now. But no, that would be suspect, and even if it wasn’t, he’d end up with a hand down his trousers before Thomas had even washed his hair. Which would make the whole premise of the evening entirely useless if he couldn’t get it up again. Jimmy grit his teeth and pulled out his smokes, lighting up as he glared down at the cards in front of him. He matched a red four to a black five and moved the lot over to a red six, resentfully.
Delayed satisfaction was not one of Jimmy’s strong suits. Even as a child he’d have his hands on the cooling rack, filching a too hot and still floppy biscuit just as his mother had taken them out of the oven. He tapped his foot and cycled through the deck, barely containing a sneer every time he laid a Queen on a King, or a Jack on a Queen. They could rub up against each other in their stupid little menage et tois right on the dining table. But he supposed they were toffs, and it wasn’t like the seven of hearts would come along and complain to the ace of clubs about it.
Jimmy chain-smoked and lost to himself twice before giving up. Forty minutes was ample time, wasn’t it? Thomas ought to be soft and pink and clean from head to toe by now, and some of the maids had gone to bed already. It wouldn’t be out of place for him to go up.
Jimmy swept the cards back together into a stack but didn’t bother to home them into their torn cardboard packet, stubbed out his dogend and grunted his excuses in the direction of Alfred who was, somehow, incomprehensibly, still talking at him about cooking.
He hightailed it up the stairs, taking two at a time for three flights before his lungs got the better of him, and rattled the knob of the bathroom door as he went past just to check the lock - open, meaning Thomas was done. As much as Jimmy wanted to barge into his bedroom straight away, he forced himself to go to his own first and rush through the steps of his usual routine. Livery off, on a hanger - Thomas had been very particular about that - then a hurried, cold strip wash in his basin. Jimmy paused to fix his hair in the mirror, fussing over his parting like it wouldn’t be a bird's nest in five minutes under Thomas’ hands. He sniffed, satisfied, then turned to the bed. It was a juvenile solution, but a practised one by now. Pillows shoved under the covers made enough of a semblance of a sleeping form to fool a casual observer rudely pushing uninvited into his room after hours. He hoped.
Dressed down to his undershirt and having slipped on a less than flattering pair of pyjama bottoms, Jimmy steeled himself and went to hover by his bedroom door. He pressed his forehead against the wood-grain and waited, ears straining as he tried to listen for the telltale echo of footsteps on the stair. When nothing came, he let himself out and closed his door gently, heart racing as he eyed Thomas’, beckoning him from across the way.
He didn’t bother knocking. A twist of the knob opened the door a crack and Jimmy slipped inside like a shadow, shutting it tightly behind him.
Thomas looked up from his book - some dusty science fiction tripe, he was sure - just as soft, pink and clean as Jimmy had imagined, his hair still damp and falling over his face in a way that seemed to soften his severe edges. God, he was handsome. Dashing, like a storybook Prince, or a charming rogue about to whisk the Princess away from her cruel husband to be. Jimmy swallowed. This weren’t right. He oughtn’t be the one sneaking into a bedchamber to have his way with the Prince. He was the Princess, if he stretched the metaphor, naive and inexperienced but willing. The stories wouldn’t read straight if Prince Charming kissed the girl then rolled over and let her take him from behind.
Jimmy realised he was staring, and coughed to cover himself.
“Wondered when you’d show up. I admit I was a little surprised you weren’t already waiting for me when I came out of the bath, seeing how you’ve been gagging for it all day.”
Jimmy did his best to look affronted, but the burgeoning tent in his trousers likely took away some of his credibility. “I have not!”
“If you say so," Thomas set his book to one side and stood, closing the distance between them in two long strides. He towered over Jimmy, heat rolling off him like midsummer, bringing with him the fresh floral scent of his soap and the sharp tang of his aftershave that always set Jimmy’s blood rushing south. “I have been, though. Haven’t been able to think about owt else.”
Thomas’ voice was dark and silky, and the kiss that followed was no different. It was a filthy thing, all tongue and grasping hands, leaving Jimmy gasping with his shoulders pressed up against the door so hard he could feel the ridges cutting into his back.
He fisted his hands into Thomas’ nightshirt and pulled them together at the waist, desperate to touch, to feel, anything and everything Thomas had to give him. Thomas ground back, just as hard as Jimmy was beneath his clothes, but as Jimmy dropped his hand to touch him Thomas pulled back with a grin.
“We won’t make it to the main event, if you’re not careful,” Thomas traced the fingers of his ruined left hand up Jimmy’s neck to cup his jaw, thumb playing over his bottom lip. “We can’t have that, can we?”
Jimmy felt like was suffocating. His cock throbbed, arousal and anticipation, stoked up for days on days, coming down like a curtain around him. Thomas wanted him. Properly. Wanted to spread his legs for him and take him into his body, submit to him entirely. Oh fuck, if Jimmy wasn’t careful he’d finish in his pants just thinking about it.
Jimmy shoved him, with every ounce of strength he could muster, back towards the bed.
“Kit off,” Jimmy tried to sound commanding, but he was fairly certain it came out desperate instead. Didn’t matter; it still had the desired effect.
Jimmy grabbed Thomas’ desk chair and wedged it forcibly beneath the doorknob like it had wronged him, then pulled at his own clothes with none of the careful diligence he would usually pay. It was a good job Thomas insisted he change into his nightwear, else his livery would be a mess of ripped seams and missing buttons by now.
Jimmy stalked toward him, already nude and laid out on the bed like it was his natural state. He’d cocked one leg up and to the side, revealing a wide span of pale inner thigh that Jimmy wanted to sink his teeth into. His eyes were naturally drawn to the centre point, where his cock stood proudly against the dark hair on his stomach, his balls tight to his body and the crease of his arse on display from beneath. Thomas had - Jimmy nearly choked - Thomas had two pillows under his hips, driving them upwards and tilting his pelvis just so to give him, Jimmy realised faintly, access.
Jimmy kicked his pyjama bottoms from his ankles and mounted the bed on his knees. Thomas’ legs split around him like water, Jimmy’s hands impatient to touch and stroke and grab any flesh he could. His lips found the crease of Thomas’ hips, breathing in soap and his ever present musk as he descended, fingertips pressing bruises into his thighs as he pushed them apart even wider.
Beneath him Thomas was like butter, pliant and warm, his body shifting to accommodate as Jimmy explored with his mouth and hands, gasping a little as Jimmy ran his tongue over his skin, or showed him a little teeth where it stung.
A hand in his hair tugged at him and Jimmy resisted, wanting to his keep his lips and nose close as he worked his way down, built up the courage to go there, where Thomas would take him, open for him-
“Jimmy,” Thomas was insistent, and Jimmy reluctantly complied. He peered up at Thomas’ face over the swell of his cock, a gorgeous flush spattered across his high cheekbones, and felt a little rational thought start to filter in through the haze of lust.
Thomas pushed himself up with his free hand, then offered him the jar he held within it. Jimmy looked at it blankly, uncomprehending.
“You ought to do this part, seeing as you’re learning,” Thomas prompted.
Loath to relinquish his grip on Thomas’ flesh for even a second, Jimmy kept one hand on his inner thigh as he reached up to take it from him. The glass was warm from Thomas’ touch, the off-white goop inside it shining as it softened.
“Right,” Jimmy did his best to push confidence into his voice, “I’ll just, uh…”
He peered at the embossed lettering as if they would reveal the secret of the next step. Of course, Thomas had told him that two men together needed grease. It were easier with girls, obviously, ‘cause they got wet by themselves. Jimmy had supposed that with all the time Thomas had taken in the bath, he might’ve taken the liberty of sorting out the lubrication as well. Apparently not. He swallowed.
Thomas must’ve taken pity on him, floundering as he was, because he flopped back against the bed and spread his legs even wider, then hooked his hands beneath his knees and pulled them up. Christ. Jimmy might have a conniption if he kept on like that. It was clear as day where he was meant to put it.
“Coat your fingers first, generously,” Thomas said to the ceiling, and Jimmy had just enough wherewithal to tear his gaze away from the dark furl sitting like a target in the centre of his vision and turn his attention to the jar of Vaseline instead.
He twisted off the lid and, after a moment’s hesitation, pushed his middle and ring finger down the neck. If it ain’t broke…
Satisfactorily slick, Jimmy put the pot down and levelled himself back to Thomas, eyes dropping instantly to his hole before dragging up the underside of his sack and along the firm length of his shaft. Jimmy wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to look Thomas in the eye again, after this. Even buttoned into his livery, not an inch of him showing between his collar and his cuffs, Jimmy would surely still be picturing him like this even as he menaced the hall boys.
“Next you’ll want to try touching me,” Thomas was patient, but there was an edge to his voice that betrayed his desire, if the stiffness of his prick didn’t give it away entirely. “Gently, mind. Just the outside, to start.”
Jimmy bit his lip, his heart racing. It still didn’t seem right, being the one doing it. Thomas wasn’t a girl, like. Yet here he was, in all his masculine glory, spreading like a one. He wanted Jimmy’s fingers in him, and after that… It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. He’d never really had to think about it, before, when there was only really one way of things going. With two pricks in the equation it were bound to be different, but it struck Jimmy quite suddenly that it weren’t just two pricks to think about. They both had the same equipment, including somewhere to stick it, so instead of narrowing down the available options it only increased them - if Thomas were to be believed that being on the receiving end was just as enjoyable. Seeing would be believing, and Jimmy still didn’t quite trust it. There were laws against doing this - well, there were laws against doing pretty much everything they did together, but this one was its own devil.
Jimmy brought his hand closer, feeling the heat between Thomas’ legs dance on his skin without even touching.
“Go on, it won’t bite,” something about the timbre of Thomas’ voice had changed, and Jimmy flicked his eyes up to look at him. Was he sweating? Jimmy hadn’t even-
Oh. Wrapped up in his own head about it, Jimmy hadn’t realised. He was being a tease. That sent its own little thrill, like an electric shock, up his back, and he felt a smirk curl on his face quite without his permission. His initial anxiousness melted away, replaced by a giddiness that was far more comfortably familiar.
“Sorry, Mr Barrow,” Jimmy shifted a little, watching Thomas’s stomach dip as he took in a short, sharp breath at the formality. Thomas loved it, and hated it, when Jimmy decided to default to etiquette in bed, and with their reversed positions as they stood, it had a particularly delicious sting to it. “Didn’t realise you were so desperate for it.”
Jimmy closed the gap and let his fingers kiss the dusky skin in front of him, marvelling at the shiver that went up through Thomas’ body at just his touch.
“How long has it been, since someone touched you here?” Jimmy kept his eyes fixed in front of him as he traced the tight ring of muscle with just the tip of his finger, almost frictionless as he spread the grease.
“Quite a bit,” Thomas sounded a little breathless already, “few years, maybe longer.”
“You don’t remember?”
“Well,” Thomas shifted, almost pressing himself against the pressure of Jimmy’s digit, “I only tend to take it when I’m drunk.”
Something dark and hungry surged in Jimmy’s gut. Finger bent, he pressed the flat of his knuckle right against the tight opening and twisted. “But you’re sober now?”
“I am.”
Mouth dry, Jimmy ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “How long before I can-”
“Now. Just one.”
Jimmy didn’t wait for reassurance. He pulled his hand back and pushed the tip of his middle finger at the centre of his softening hole and felt the muscle give. Jimmy watched as the length of it disappeared inside, into heat and velvet softness that clung to him like wet cotton.
Thomas sighed, some of the tension he had been holding in himself melting away as he sank back further onto the bed.
“What should I-” Jimmy held himself still, equal parts aroused and unsure. He’d had his hand up a lot of skirts, before, and had the general idea of what he ought to be getting on with, but that didn’t mean he was right.
“Whatever you like,” Thomas sounded a little far away, and Jimmy wasn’t sure if that was his own ears ringing with the rush of blood or that he’d finally found the button that turned Thomas’ ego off. “Let me adjust to it. Don’t push when you feel an increase in resistance, wait for it to pass, then add another.”
“Right,” Jimmy swallowed and moved his finger experimentally, letting Thomas’ body take a little more. “Never go past the point that you’re comfortable. Like winding a clock.”
Thomas puffed a laugh and Jimmy felt it, suddenly tight around him, which ran down his body and straight to his prick.
“Never thought I’d hear that echoed back on me like this.”
“Didn’t you?” Jimmy, diligently, waited for the tension to bleed out again before shifting his hand, drawing out then pressing back in in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “‘Cause, in retrospect, thinking back now as I am, what with your hands all over me, and you pressed right up against me as you told it me, I suspect that something like this might well’ve been on your mind.”
Thomas was tight lipped, so Jimmy fucked him a little meaner on his wrist - he was getting the hang of the motion now, and Thomas’ body seemed to be endlessly accommodating. “Your silence don’t fool me, Mr Barrow. You’d’ve had me up against that clock if I’d’ve let you. Shame, really, that I was too dense to realise I wanted it at the time. Would’ve prevented a lot of hassle, for both of us.”
Thomas hummed his agreement, and Jimmy took that as his cue to press his ring finger up against his middle and breach Thomas with both of them. He took it easily, his rim stretching a little to accommodate but putting up no resistance. Thomas grunted and pulled his legs up a little further, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of his thighs.
Jimmy felt tingly all over, his own neglected cock hard and heavy between his legs. Even a year ago, if someone’d told him he would be stiff as a board in anticipation of buggering a bloke, Jimmy would sure as anything have thrown a punch. Now, though, he admired the shape of Thomas’ prick, just as hard and red and flushed as it sat heavily against his stomach, eyed the wetness already gathering at the tip as Jimmy fingered him, the dark hair tracking down to the creases of his inner thighs, how his sack sat tightly pulled up over his hole where Jimmy’s fingers stretched him.
“Could’a had me doing this to you earlier,” Jimmy punctuated his words with a thrust of his fingers, pushing down to the knuckle and watching Thomas take it, “seeing as you like it so much. Never would’a guessed it, from looking at you, that you’d be so keen to play the woman.”
Thomas groaned, and Jimmy felt him clench around his fingers, tight. What would that feel like, on his cock? So tight and wet and hot. Jimmy dropped his free hand to squeeze himself, just to take the edge off. He had to be careful. He didn’t want to hurt him by putting it in too soon, but Christ, he was perfect. Jimmy set about exploring with double digits, keeping his pace steady but playing with the depth of them, splaying them out as he came to the surface and rubbing the soft walls that seemed to suck him back in.
“Oh Christ, there, bend your fingers a bit,” Thomas panted - because he was panting, red faced, his muscles straining.
Jimmy stopped dead, then did what he was told. Thomas jolted, like he’d been struck. Jimmy blinked and then, cautiously, did it again.
“That’s it, right there,” Thomas gasped, his fingers blanching the pale flesh of his thighs a ghostly white as he held himself open, trembling.
“S’good?” Jimmy probed the spot, rubbing circles with his fingertips that made Thomas judder with every pass.
“What do you think?”
Jimmy snorted, hunger and curiosity rising as Thomas turned to jelly under his ministrations. “I think you might have been playing down the appeal of having it done to you, Mr Barrow. You’re leaking like a tap.” Jimmy licked his lips and brought his free hand down to handle Thomas’ cock with rough familiarity, just how he liked it, soaking up Thomas’ punched out moan like it was air to breathe.
Jimmy cocked his head and pressed a little firmer, watching a fat bead of pre-come drip from Thomas’ slit. “Can you come from just this?”
Thomas nodded tightly, teeth gritted and his nostrils flaring. Jimmy kept the pressure up, his grip tight on Thomas’ shaft, until another drop came to a head and spilt over. Then he relented, feeling Thomas practically sag beneath him.
A heady rush of power filled him. He had Thomas at his mercy, and he was hot for it. Sweat on his brow, his chest heaving, all from a simple touch somewhere secret, where Thomas hadn’t had it for years. All for Jimmy.
“We can’t have that, Mr Barrow,” Jimmy reasoned, returning to his previous rhythm - push and pull and stretch, barely grazing the spot he’d been abusing moments before. “Not before the main event. I expect you to have enough manners to wait until I’ve put it in you properly. S’rude, if you come before I’ve even had a chance to feel you. You know I haven’t had a proper fuck for months, now, since I stopped going to the dancehalls on account of how good you could suck me. I think you owe it me to wait.”
Jimmy’s mouth was running away from him, the words just spilling out without filter. Any other time, he’d have expected a clout round the back of the head, but at present they seemed to be driving Thomas mad in a different way.
Jimmy sank his fingers back inside, pushing upwards against that spot, and Thomas’ breath hitched.
“You best hurry up and put it in, then, else I won’t have a choice,” Thomas ground out between breaths.
Jimmy slid his fingers back again, almost to the rim, then thrust in with force, pulling a moan from Thomas’ bitten lips.
“Will you ask nicely?”
“Jimmy, I swear to God-”
“Blasphemy in’t nice, Mr Barrow. A simple please would suffice.”
“Jimmy-”
“Please, Jimmy,” Jimmy found that spot again, easier now, and set about rubbing it in tight little circles, “would you be so kind as to stop teasing and put your lovely thick cock inside me, else I stand to finish all over myself before I even get the pleasure.”
“You’re a bastard,”
“Now that’s just rude,” Jimmy slid his hand over Thomas’ leaking cock in tandem with the hand inside him, feeling him tense and jerk, then let off the pressure completely. Thomas choked, his hips thrusting up to chase the friction that he was suddenly bereft of.
“Please, God, Jimmy, you have to,” Thomas panted, “I need it. Need you.”
“Right you are, Mr Barrow. That weren’t so hard, was it?” Jimmy gave his cock a pat and pulled his fingers out from him, watching as Thomas sagged like a punctured air balloon.
He grabbed the glass jar from where it sat open on the sheets and stuck his fingers back down the neck. His prick was wider than two fingers, no matter how much he’d stretched Thomas to fit him, and he suspected that more grease wouldn’t hurt.
Jimmy knelt up, fisting his prick with it and biting his lip at the sensation. He was a leaking mess himself, having gotten so caught up in the joy of Thomas’ pleasure that he’d nearly forgotten about his own need. He hadn’t been lying - it had been months since he’d had a proper fuck, and the thought of sinking in to a hot, tight body nearly sent him to the edge before he’d even lined himself up.
Thomas’ calves came up around his waist as Jimmy bent over him, one hand between his legs to hold himself steady as the other fisted in the sheets beside Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas’ hands fell from his thighs as his ankles crossed behind him, arms wrapping around Jimmy’s back as he brought them closer and closer still.
Inches from each other, Thomas was a vision below him, his irises a pale sliver around pupils blown so wide his eyes were almost black. Hot breath against him from spit slick, bitten lips, a high flush dusting his cheeks as his hair fell across his brow. He was gorgeous.
Jimmy moved slow as treacle, finding the angle on the second try and pressed the leaking head of his cock against Thomas’ stretched hole. Time seemed to stop at the moment of contact - both of them holding their breath, and each other’s gaze, as Jimmy brought his hips forward.
Mouth open, Jimmy could not suppress his groan as he breached him. He felt the muscle stretch around him, the heat flood from Thomas into him as his body took him in. Everything narrowed to that one point of contact - the heat, the pressure, the slide as he edged himself forward. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced, the intensity of it. Thomas looking up at him like he’d hung the moon as his body opened and took him down to the root.
“We could be locked up for this,” Jimmy didn’t know why he said it, a thrill of danger rushing down his spine twining with his pleasure, pushing at his arousal like pins. “Fifty year ago, we might’ve been hanged.”
“Then you better make it worth it,” Thomas was hoarse, his fingers twitching where they anchored themselves around Jimmy’s back, tugging him closer still. “If I end up in prison for a mediocre fuck, I’ll never forgive you.”
Jimmy cracked a smile and leant down to kiss him, open mouthed, and caught Thomas’ moan on his tongue. He shifted his hand to stabilise himself, pulling out slow and steady until his tip crowned at Thomas’ rim, then pushed back in with a smooth stroke until his balls kissed Thomas’ cheeks. Thomas kissed him harder, licking into his mouth as Jimmy strained to set a rhythm, not too fast or too punishing, letting them both feel every inch of skin where they were connected.
Jimmy’s stomach flipped over as Thomas’ hand found the back of his neck, scratching short nails up into his hairline as he started to move with him, hips tilting with every thrust. Slow and deliberate, Thomas rising up as Jimmy went down, bodies moving and writhing together as one. It was… intimate. Obviously. Jimmy had done it with girls like this, but it wasn’t what he preferred. He usually got bored pretty quick and waited for them to go a bit floppy with it, or reached down to rub her clit so she came with a sigh before he ramped up the pace and chased his pleasure, or pulled out early and fisted himself until he came on her tits.
It felt different, with Thomas. It was like every nerve was alight, the pleasure thrumming beneath his skin banking higher and higher even though he kept his pace the same. Jimmy slowly realised, like a clearing fog, as Thomas sighed against his mouth and pulled him nearer, that they were making love. This wasn’t a dirty, clandestine rendezvous, where the goal was a quick fix of mutual gratification before disappearing off into the night.
This was Thomas, his best friend, his lover, belly up and vulnerable, letting him in, giving himself over. Thomas was his. That might just have been the most erotic thought he’d ever had, and the effect was immediate. His hips crashed forwards, disrupting his rhythm, and punching a moan out of Thomas’ throat.
Eyes wide, Jimmy pulled back from their kiss, an apology at his lips.
“Don’t worry, I won’t break,” Thomas grinned up at him, his hand trailing down the side of his neck to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I can take whatever you give me.”
Jimmy held for a second, letting his meaning settle over him. Once it filtered through the haze, it caught like an ember, igniting the slow river of desire within him like oil. Jimmy’s lust burned, flaring up from his gut and through his spine. He moved with it, hands finding purchase on Thomas’ shoulders and pinning him down with force. Thomas let out a gasp as Jimmy pulled back and drove into him, tip to root, then did it again.
Jimmy rutted wildly, his hips barely finding a rhythm, driven only by need, and more, more, more. Beneath him, Thomas could only hold on, fingers pressing bruises into Jimmy’s sides as he fucked into him with single minded purpose. Thomas was his. His lover. His friend. He couldn’t shout it from the rooftops, much as he wanted to, but here, now, he could prove it. He could leave his mark. Show Thomas just how much he meant to him, just how much he loved him- Christ, he did love him. Jimmy was in love with him.
His hips stuttered, the pressure in his gut rising to near overflow.
“That’s it, keep going,” Thomas gasped, panting, his eyes shutting tight. “Right there, Jimmy, please-”
“M’close, I’ll-” Jimmy’s voice was guttural, a barely human thing, as he held on and fucked Thomas as hard as he could stand. “I can’t-”
“Please, fuck,” Thomas dug his nails into Jimmy’s flesh. “In me. Need it, please, inside me, Jimmy I-” He broke off with a moan as Jimmy thrust into him again, then tensed. Every muscle of him went rigid, and something hot splashed up against Jimmy’s chest.
Jimmy’s vision went white. His hips pumped, his cock trapped in the iron grip of Thomas’ clenching hole, inside the heat of his body, his most intimate place. Jimmy emptied himself, he couldn’t stop it. He’d only ever spent inside a girl once or twice, by accident, and he recalled weeks on edge after until she invariably threw a bloody pair of knickers at him and told him where to go the next time he wanted a bit of fun.
Thomas had just come on Jimmy’s cock begging for it. Untouched. And Jimmy had followed him over the edge. Jimmy shivered, the ringing in his ears only just abating.
Below him Thomas lay panting, loose limbed and splayed akimbo, like a puppet with cut strings. Jimmy flopped on top of him, straight into the mess between their bodies, without pulling out. Thomas’ arms came up around him instantly, pulling him closer like they could transcend the bounds of their flesh and melt into the same being.
Light as air, Jimmy pressed his face into the crook of Thomas’ neck as he basked in their mutual pleasure.
“Was that good enough, you think? To go to prison for?”
Thomas puffed a laugh and trailed his hand down Jimmy’s back, raising goosebumps in its wake. “Not bad for a beginner.”
Jimmy bit him. Not too hard, mind, more of a nip to the muscle at the side of his neck, but enough to let Thomas know he meant business. “Was good enough for you to come without me even stroking you off, that sounds good enough to me.”
“I’ll give you that,” Thomas planted a large hand on Jimmy’s backside and gave it a squeeze. “Practice makes perfect, however.”
“So, definitely good enough that you want me to do it to you again. I’ll take that, Mr Barrow. But you got me curious now, seeing how you enjoyed it so much. Next time you ought to do it to me. Show me how it’s done.”
“Don’t run before you can walk.”
Jimmy pulled up to look at him sternly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I said you were a bit green for it, didn’t I? We’ll have to work you up to it, if you want it. Seeing how I suspect you’ve never thought to try doing it to yourself?”
“You can do it to yourself?”
“Exactly what I mean. Now, we best clean up a bit or I will be suspected of obscenity if I’m seen to be having a full bath two days in a row.”
Jimmy groaned and wormed himself closer to Thomas on his chest. “Do we have to? I’m so comfortable I could drop off right here.”
Thomas tipped his head to the side, and Jimmy jolted as his soft, oversensitive prick was suddenly squeezed, where it still sat inside Thomas’ body.
“That’s not fair!”
“How about, you get off and get me a flannel, we’ll have a wipe down, then you can sleep here tonight. S’long as you’re careful about getting back to your room in the morning.”
Jimmy weighed his options. The opportunity to spend the night wrapped up in warm limbs, sharing kisses and secret touches, far outweighed the prospect of his own cold, lonely bed.
“Alright. But it’s a hard bargain you drive, Mr Barrow. A hard bargain indeed.”