A/N: This is a little silly birthday ficlet for the lovely i-live-for-television from tumblr. Hope you enjoy, my love! :D
Apologies for grammar or spelling mistakes.
"That's the last time I'm doing this for you … and no mistake!" Alfred murmured, his voice coming out far less confident than he intended. He bit his lip hard at the appealing sight before him and quickly squeezed his eyes shut.
"Come on...A-..Alfred! You...oh god ...yes! Like... that!" Thomas panted as he braced himself against the wine shelf, his fingers firmly clutching the wood.
"I mean it! That's the third time this week, we can't go on like that, Thomas!" The ginger footman ran a hand across his heated face to wipe the sweat away and glanced tensely at the doorway of the wine cellar. As usual, a slight fear was creeping through his body, making his throat grow tight. However, his fear of discovery always mixed with the thrill of getting caught...and in the end of the day, Alfred Nugent - who would have thought it!- couldn't resist such an alluring temptation. He wasn't like that, so of course he would stop. Soon. Very soon. 'Just not yet' a little naughty voice inside his head whispered everytime they met in the cellar.
"I...I know, but...hnnnng, god ...you...sh-..shit yes!" Thomas turned his head a little and dark strands of hair were falling over his half-closed eyes. His slightly parted lips were a shade of red Alfred'd never seen before...almost obscene, he thought, and blushed as Thomas arched his back and groaned, skillfully rocking his hips and meeting the pushes.
"If we're found out, I'll kill you!" Alfred said uneasily, gnawing on his plump lower lip until it felt sore. "But we...wo-..woooohoonn't...aaah! Aah god!" Barrow's eyes fell shut as a huge wave of pleasure flooded his body. He gripped the shelf hard, bottles rattling at the relentless thrusts that became even more forceful now. "Shhhh, Thomas be quiet for God's sake!" the footman hissed, his head snapping around to check the door again.
"I'm sorry Alfred, but this...is just...just...hnnnn!"
"I don't know why I'm still doing this, really!"he pondered, absently staring at the beautiful pale skin of Barrow's back and arse, and then he suddenly remembered ...
"You know why … because...we're fr-..friends ...Alfie!"
"We are Thomas, but this..." with a slight shake of the head, he waved his hand in the air "that's not what friends are supposed to do for each other...!"
"Think of your..booo- ook. All the great ...recipes...you lo- love it..so much!" Thomas stammered, taking shallow, ragged breaths now.
...
Barrow was right – Alfred loved it - 'The old and new cook book'. After he'd been going on about it for ages, Thomas had thrusted it into his hand one day, with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. "For being such a good friend!" he'd said, a cheeky smile playing at the corner of his oh-so-red lips. At first, Alfred had been angry. Offended. 'How dare you!? I'm not corruptible! Do you think I'm doing something like that for a bloody book?' he'd thought, chagrined and with clenched fists. But much later he bashfully realized something that troubled him even more... namely that he'd have never asked Thomas for anything in return and that he would continue being 'such a good friend' without any reward at all, for reasons he'd much rather not think about.
However, for Alfred it was a wonderful precious book. After all, it was a gift - a present from his friend. And since Alfred never got any presents, he treated it like a secret treasure, keeping it hidden in the bottom dresser drawer, beneath his underclothes.
In the evenings, after everybody'd gone to sleep, he used to sit on his bed, turning the pages carefully, and marveled at the recipes – some new and original, with ingredients he'd never heard of before - and it excited him in a variety of ways. Strangely enough, the description of "how to stuff a goose" left him flustered, a delightful tingle settling in his stomach. But no, he didn't want to follow that thought any further. Eventually, Alfred had learned that sometimes it was better not to question these things and just be grateful. Truth be told - life was much easier that way.
Anyhow, after returning the book back into the drawer, his mind usually wandered to their gloriously illicit encounters in the wine cellar. So when he grabbed his stiff cock under the covers in the dark of the night, his pyjama trousers pushed down to his knees, Alfred closed his eyes and imagined himself being fucked ruthlessly against the cellar wall. Hot breath against his neck. Teeth digging into his skin. Filthy words whispered in his ear.
He touched himself, fervently, and it felt so incredibly good, he had to bite his wrist hard not to let the whole house hear just how good. The image of hellfire banned from his mind, the footman came hard into the sheets, sweat-coated and writhing, his lustful groans muffled by a pillow. Still, a light taste of shame and guilt used to linger in his mouth every time he drifted off to sleep. 'This is a book of sin', he realized and shuddered in weird pleasure...
But as time passed, Alfred Nugent found out that one could pretty much get used to sin, if it happened on a regular basis. "That" happened very frequently indeed, and so his doubts and worries about God, religion and 'Thomas being twisted by nature' started to melt away like butter in a hot pan. His biggest fear wasn't going to hell anymore, but sitting in Carsons's office, explaining himself and what they were doing - not as if this scenario was any less frightening...au contraire!
…...
"We'll get caught. We will!" he murmured anxiously into his fist. And then I'll have to polish silver for the rest of my life... or even worse, I'll have to polish shoes in the streets.
With pounding heart he looked at Barrow – sweating and gasping- and in an instant, silver and shoes seemed to be far away ...
A loud groan escaped Thomas's mouth and his knuckles turned white at his firm grip on the shelf. In his mind, Alfred saw it coming down on them, bottles crushing and red wine spilt all over the floor. Carson will definitely get a heart attack – two men with open trousers, performing such a revolting act AND the spilt wine...that'll be too much for him to take ...
"Oh. Oh fu-...Fuck!FUCK!" Thomas rested his head on his forearm, trying to keep himself from crying out.
"What do you th- think... I'm bl-oody...doing...!" Jimmy groaned behind him and threw his head back, his bronze curls damp and rumpled. Chuckling the tiniest bit between his gasps, he slammed hard into the other man - his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink.
Like the inside of a grapefruit, Alfred mused as Jimmy locked eyes with him, an inexplicable expression on his face. The tip of his cheeky red tongue stuck out at the corner of his mouth as he gave a sharp thrust forward. Alfred swallowed hard, and when Jimmy winked at him suggestively, a leer playing on his sultry crimson lips, he quickly averted his eyes, trying not to get carried away. Not yet - not here. Later, in my room... he told himself.
Of course, he shouldn't be watching so brazenly. That was indecent. But they were doing lewd things, for God's sake! And somehow he was part of it. Not physically – never physically - but still, those encounters felt like wonderful bizarre threesomes to him. It was their dirty little secret and whenever their eyes met across the dinner table, they shared a knowing look that made Alfred's body prickle from his ginger hair down to his toes. It was wrong – it certainly was, but he'd never felt so thrilled, so alive before... Being a footman was dull and boring to Alfred and therefore, when all this had started it'd nearly knocked him off his feet.
The very first time it had happened out of nowhere...
...
Alfred and Jimmy were stocking the wine cellar and when Thomas sneaked in, Jimmy started to kiss him - like usual, but Alfred's smile faded rapidly as the kiss slowly but surely turned into something else. Before he could even realize what was going on, Jimmy's legs were wrapped around the other man's waist and Barrow shoved him up against the wall, pushing into the blond with vigour and drawing salacious sounds from him. Alfred watched them silently, trancelike, with a shaky hand over his mouth and - all of a sudden - very tight trousers.
He didn't quite know what shocked him more – the immoral incident he was witnessing or the way it obviously bothered him, down there!
...
But now, nearly 3 months later, he wasn't shocked or disgusted anymore. Alfred looked at them and smiled genuinely. Thomas and Jimmy – they belonged together, even here, even now...
Funny, Alfred thought, even though they're fucking like that, rough and feral, there is some delicate sweetness in everything they do. Jimmy was pounding fiercely into Thomas as he bent forward and softly kissed his neck, whispering little things in his ear and Thomas smiled between his groans, love drunk and helplessly addicted to the young blond.
They were in love, and it was evident in every glance and secret touch they shared – even in the way they mocked each other.
At first, it'd made Alfred's moral values break down, but finally he realized that their love was as beautiful and precious as any other. And when he heard their noises at night, stifled passionate moans from the other side of the wall and quiet talking and chuckling after – it kept him awake, wondering if he'd ever find someone who could love him like that...
…...
Alfred rubbed his eyes, still standing near the entrance and keeping watch, so that no one would walk in on them. If someone finds us, we're done for... he thought and started sweating into his livery again.
"Faster Jimmy...god! Faster!" he heard Thomas grunt.
"Yes, faster Jimmy!" Alfred demanded impatiently, as he gazed up the stairs. Carson usually didn't go to the wine cellar himself, but if he was looking for one of them or heard anything... Alfred really didn't want to think about that – about what he'd say to him, what they were doing down here. "Have you no shame!" Carson's reproachful voice boomed in his head - and like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the next moment his worst nightmare came true. There was a sudden noise at the top of the stairs. Alfred turned pale.
"Ji-...Jimmy hurry up. ...I think...he's coming!" he blurted out, frightened, and his voice far too high-pitched.
"No...no- not yet.." Thomas gasped "but it wo-won't be long... ."
"Not you! Carson!" Alfred hissed in response and ran a hand over his mouth. For God's sake, what are you doing to me!
Jimmy sped up his pace, thrusting sharply into Thomas as he grabbed his erection and turned his lover into a groaning shaking mess. He grinned boldly, that cheeky blond bastard – obviously turned on by the risk of being found out...
All of a sudden, a deep voice confirmed Alfred's misgiving. "Is anybody there?" Damn! Alfred hurried up a few stairs to meet him halfway.
"MR. CARSON!" he said loudly. "What are you doing here? I mean..I'm ...I..." Before he could make up a lie – or pass out, whatever was about to happen first -, a muffled moan was heard from the cellar and Alfred coughed noisily into his hand.
"What was that?" Carson tried to look behind him, raising his enormous eyebrow in suspicion.
"Ah, I'm very sorry Mr. Carson. I'm probably coming down with a cold or something." He coughed again, patting his chest for emphasis.
"I must say you don't look very well indeed." Carson stated, skeptically watching the young man's reddened face. "You're sweating." Oh Lord. "I...I know Mr. Carson."
Alfred nervously fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt, silently praying that the butler would turn around and leave at once...when gasping sounded from down the stairs.
The footman inhaled deeply, making a strange noise, as if he could hardly breathe, and coughed once again, almost into Carson's face. "Oh sorry Mr. Carson. I can't help it. Please don't come so close..." He bent forward, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose, and snuffled before he continued.
"..you may catch it and fall ill. We can't let that happen...for the sake of Downton!" Carson's brown eyes widened in realization and he took a few steps backwards immediately.
"Of course, you're right Alfred. That should not happen." He held his arm in front of his face, apparently attempting to keep away all evil, as he continued - and Nugent bit back a little chuckle. "Go to bed when you're finished here. I hope you get better soon Alfred!"
"I will, thank you Mr. Carson." Alfred said, and sighed in relief when the butler was out of sight. He ran back down the stairs and leaned against the wall, taking a few deep breaths.
A moment later, Jimmy startled him out of his thougths, and Alfred could tell from the kind of noises he made that the blond was close.
My god, nobody should know such things about their friends...
Alfred watched Jimmy tilting Thomas's head back and murmuring something in his ear – he knew that it was 'I love you' – and smiled instinctively. He does that every time...
The ginger footman bit his lip as Kent kissed Barrow fondly, claimed him, showing the world – though it was only Alfred watching – that Thomas was his. The underbutler was melting under Jimmy's hands, surrendering completely to him. He was weak, but undoubtedly he didn't mind – probably because it's wonderful to be weak and vulnerable when you're loved. Alfred felt a stab of jealousy at their closeness – at their love, and he became aware that he wasn't really part of it, not part of what truly mattered. He'd never be...and this truth made his insides twist and his little ginger heart ache...
Thomas stifled a cry as he came and Alfred closed his eyes, trying to ingore his own painful arousal. "Oh god, I'm so done!" Barrow panted a few moments later, his trousers still around his knees. He leaned back against the shelf with Jimmy in his arms, fondly stroking his hair.
"Well you're a fine one to talk! I thought I'd pee my pants when Carson came down...!"
"Oh did he?!" "Yes Thomas, HE DID! And please pull up your trousers, will you...I mean...good god!" Thomas chuckled as Jimmy buttoned up his trousers and rearranged his hair. "Perfect." he said with hooded eyes and Barrow smiled and kissed him on the head.
Love. Alfred thought and a strange sadness washed through him.
"Thank you Alfred!" Jimmy smiled impishly at him and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "If we can do anything for you..." Thomas gazed at Jimmy, then back at Alfred "like...lend you a hand or something" he slowly looked him up and down, his eyes resting on the obvious bulge in Alfred's pants "just tell us." Barrow raised his brow, a suggestive smirk broadening all over his face. The footman's eyes widened in shock. "Wh- what?! "
"Mmm. Just tell us!" Jimmy nodded, batting his eyelashes seductively and suddenly Alfred felt a sharp smack on his bottom. "Uuh Jimmy! What the hell..." He turned around and stared after Kent incredulously, but they were already heading up the stairs, giggling like children.
Oh god, I can't do this anymore...I won't. He passed a shaky hand over his eyes. But then again, there was this great new book about baking he wanted so desperately and he'd already told Thomas about it. "Well damn it! Just a few more times...who cares!"
Alfred snickered as he ran up the stairs – his mind full of bawdy images to revel in ...