A/N I wrote this after having a dream about S1 Thomas having to wear a black-and-white kilt as part of his livery and being really annoyed about it. (Although he did look nice wearing it!) Reviews totally welcome!
"It will be a hoot!"
Those were Lady Grantham's words to Mr. Carson as she excitedly told him about her ideas for Mrs. Levinson's and Mr. Harry's impending visit from America.
Mr. Carson listened calmly, groaned silently and said, "Yes, milady." to every request.
The aforementioned "hoot" was for her mother and brother to have a full Scottish experience. Some of Lady Grantham's "people" came from Scotland more than two hundred years ago, a fact she oftentimes pointed out to the Dowager, who chided her about being an American and therefore lacking any sense of respect for tradition.
Lady Grantham wanted no expense spared in celebrating her ancestry, including haggis, a fleet of bagpipers, and the entire male staff in kilts.
On the first morning the servants were to wear their required kilts, Jimmy found Thomas in his room, sitting on the bed with his knees apart in a not-very-kilt friendly position.
"Thomas, you need to sit like a lay-dee." Jimmy said.
Thomas glared at him and grumbled, "She's treating us like animals, she is."
"Who?"
"Her Ladyship. Like we're on display at the zoo. It's all just for shits and giggles."
"But I like me kilt, except it doesn't really flatter my skin tone," trilled Jimmy, and very daintily pinched the pink and green hem with both hands and twirled in a gleeful circle, like a little girl wearing her first frilly party dress.
Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and said, "Please, don't do that."
"Why not? It's so nice to feel the breeze on me bits and pieces! The ladies certainly have the advantage on us when it comes to coolness."
Thomas opened his eyes and snorted, "So, I'm to take it you're not wearing any pants under there."
Jimmy, "Nope," emphasizing the "p" with an inelegant pop. "That's the way you wear it. Anyway, it's just until the Americans leave. And remember, even Carson has to wear one."
Thomas tried to wipe the image of Carson's naked (and most likely knobby) knees from his mind. "It's undignified, wearing something that makes us look like … savages," Thomas said angrily, smoothing out the wool that felt rough against his cock. (It was unnatural.)
"Savages!" Jimmy yelped. "Alright, maybe a little but now, you've just gotten yourself completely worked up and you don't know how to get out of it. Stop being such a big girl's blouse, for Christ's sake."
"We're going to be like animals in the zoo. Or the circus. Paraded out for their inspection in our costumes. Maybe I'll balance a ball on me nose," Thomas sniffed.
"You know what? You're turning into Mr. Carson you are."
Thomas suddenly stood up. There was something dead serious in his eyes, a look Jimmy had never seen before that both frightened and excited him.
"Hah," Jimmy reached out to smooth a new silver streak at Thomas' temple. "You're even starting to LOOK like him. So GREY … hah"
Thomas abruptly stopped Jimmy's caress by clutching the footman's wrist with one hand. He then pushed Jimmy across the room, and spun him around so that his face was pressed against the wall.
"Thomas? Wh-wh-at …"
"Shut. It. And. Don't. Move."
While Mr. Carson's titantic boom was enough to snap anyone to attention, since his promotion to underbutler, Thomas had perfected an even, almost sinister tone when scolding the staff, who could practically hear him say, "If you do not finish polishing that candelabra by dinner, I'm going to throw your soul through the fiery gates of Hell."
That now familiar voice kept Jimmy compliant, and he rested his forehead against the wall while Thomas locked the door and grabbed the little jar of petrol jelly. He unscrewed it angrily and threw the lid on the floor with a clatter.
Jimmy tried to see what had made the noise but Thomas snapped, "Eyes forward and hands against the wall," as he slathered the jelly all over his erection. Jimmy lifted his arms in surrender.
Thomas placed his hands on either side of Jimmy's hips and pulled them forward. He slowly lifted the hem of the footman's kilt and reveled in the sight of Jimmy's perfectly round, golden arse. Thomas began to run his hands all over Jimmy, around his arse, down his hips, across his belly, and lightly along his cock. Thomas continued his torture of Jimmy for a few moments, which to Jimmy, seemed like an eternity. He began to whimper and beg for release.
"Hmmm, doesn't feel so good to be the one being teased, does it now?" Thomas growled into Jimmy's ear. He lifted his own kilt, put the tip of his cock into Jimmy's cleft, slid it down tantalizingly slow and laughed at the gasping, squirming footman before him.
"Thomas please, I'm scared," Jimmy cajoled, hoping to appeal to the underbutler's surprisingly soft interior.
"Now, I need for you to promise me something, and repeat it after me," Thomas said evenly, trying to disguise the smile in his voice. "I will never, ever compare you to Carson ever again." He stroked Jimmy's opening and began to slip his fingers inside.
Jimmy twitched and then moaned, "Ah, God. Thomas. I will NEVER EVER EVER compare you to Carson EVER again. Just stop this."
"Hmmm. Not sure you've learned your lesson," he chuckled with a sharp smack to Jimmy's arse.
The other man gasped in surprise, "Thomas, please! I'm sorry!"
Thomas decided not to respond. Instead he slid inside Jimmy to the hilt with a loud groan … so loud that Jimmy was afraid Alfred would start banging on the door.
Thomas began thrusting slowly, anchoring himself to the wall by clasping one of Jimmy's hands. With the other hand, Thomas began to stroke Jimmy's cock in earnest.
For the next few moments, the two men were lost in each other; Thomas increasing the speed of his hips and his hands, whispering obscenities into Jimmy's ear while the footman prayed incoherently to the wall.
A minute later, Jimmy came hard into Thomas's fingers, and a second or two later, Thomas climaxed deep inside his lover, his semen leaving a trail against Jimmy's inner thighs. They stayed together wordlessly and panting against the wall, Thomas pressing Jimmy into the dull white paint and kissing the back of his head. They only parted when they heard Carson's unmistakable bellow down the hallway.
Thomas grabbed two towels and gave one to Jimmy, who took the opportunity to smack Thomas's arse with it.
"Why you cheeky sod!" Thomas laughed.
"Me?" Jimmy asked incredulously. "I wasn't the one doling out corporeal punishment. Made me feel like I was back at school with the nuns." He shuddered with the memory as he wiped his legs.
Thomas snorted from the basin where he was washing his hands and spoke over his shoulder, "Ah, lovely, I'm like Sister Mary Margaret the Terrible or whatever. So romantic you are."
Jimmy approached Thomas and stood next to him as they both admired what they saw mirrored back to them.
"I didn't say I didn't like it, Thomas," Jimmy said to Thomas' reflection, then nudged the underbutler shyly with his elbow and looked at him through his long golden eyelashes.
Thomas pulled Jimmy against him for a kiss. "I know you didn't," he murmured into Jimmy's ear, inhaling his lover's salty sweet scent.
"And, I love kilts now," Thomas said as he wrapped his arms around Jimmy's shoulders.
"Really now. Thomas Barrow the sophisticate likes something so … so … country," Jimmy said, affecting the nasal tones of the upstairs.
"Yes, because it provides such easy access to this." Thomas reached under Jimmy's kilt to cup his now limp cock. And, Jimmy soon quickly found himself aroused again under the heat of Thomas' palm.
"Sooooooo. The kilts are staying, yeah?" Jimmy whispered as he softly bucked into Thomas' hand.
"Oh yes, they're staying," Thomas replied with a wink as he increased the pressure on Jimmy's rapidly hardening cock.
"We're going to be l-l-ate. Fuuuuck. For br-breakfast." Jimmy stammered.
Thomas sniffed and began to squeeze Jimmy's length as he said casually, "Ahhh, they won't miss us, especially me because you know I'm going to go on and on about how much I hate kilts. And Bates will say something unpleasant and Anna will give me a disapproving look and Mrs. Hughes, god bless her, will cluck her tongue even though she completely agrees with me and …"
"Shut up, you annoying g-g-it, and k-k-iss me again." Jimmy hissed.
And Thomas did just that.