A/N: Two trigger warnings ... binge eating and fetish-y behavior concerning a certain related body part. I have no explanation for this. It sprang from my head like a freaky little Athena. Enjoy!
Alfred stood in the drawing room doorway, gaping like a fish flopping on dry land.
He had been about to offer a silver platter of Mrs. Patmore's walnut biscuits to one of Downton's latest visitors when Lady Grantham silently gasped and held her hand to her throat in a jolt of remembrance.
Lord and Lady Alton were first-time guests at Downton and, unbeknownst to Mrs. Patmore, Lady Alton was deathly allergic to tree nuts. (Lady Grantham, busy fussing over the newly widowed Lady Mary as well as baby George, had neglected to tell Mrs. Patmore beforehand while planning the menus, a forgotten tidbit that was certainly going to make the red-faced cook bloom purple once she heard it after the fact.)
Lady Grantham had suddenly stood up and ushered the bewildered footman to the doorway by his elbow as the biscuits began to slide off of the platter. Alfred smoothly (at least as smoothly as he could muster) kept them from falling to the carpet in a less than graceful fashion.
He was stopped dead in his tracks by Lady Grantham's clear blue stare as she whispered to him, "Alfred, please take these away and tell Mrs. Patmore to PLEASE remove ANY traces of nuts from the kitchen ... and from this HOUSE as long as Lord and Lady Alton are here. Do you understand?"
Alfred nodded dumbly and said, "Yes, milady. R-right away, milady."
"Good. Thank you."
Alfred was forever hungry and under Mrs. Patmore's hawkish (and sometimes evil) eye, nicking a bit of food here and there was nigh impossible. Daisy would slip him as much as she could hoping he would at least smile and look at her for more than a second but it was never enough for the lanky ginger.
Back in the kitchen, Alfred watched forlornly as Mrs. Patmore began to scrape the remains of her several batches of walnut biscuits as well as three beautifully browned mince pies into the rubbish bin. She muttered furiously under her breath, something Alfred couldn't quite catch about death and …
"Wait. Mrs. Patmore you mustn't!" he interrupted. "It would be a crying shame to throw those lovely biscuits and pies away!"
"Well, seeing as if so much as one nut crosses this threshold while Lady Alton is here, that's the place for them then!" Mrs. Patmore huffed. "One dead houseguest is more than enough. We don't need a number two," she added, casting a knowing glance at Daisy who bit her lips shut in response.
"Me mum always told me not to waste food," Alfred said dramatically. 'Think of the starving children and how lucky you are!' she'd always say." He looked at Mrs. Patmore with an exaggerated frown and sad puppy eyes.
Starving children were one of the few soft spots Mrs. Patmore had.
"Oh, go on then. Take them." she sighed with a wave of her apron. "Just make them go away. NOW."
Alfred's face brightened. "Thanks, Mrs. Patmore!" he said gleefully, snatching up the trays. He decided to eat a few and then hid the rest in the fifth best china closet.
After the staff had finished eating dinner, Alfred marched proudly into the servants' hall with his forbidden loot and set it down onto the table with a flourish.
Jimmy held his teacup up to his lips in mid-sip. "What's all this then?" he said.
"They're ours. Get rid of 'em. Direct orders from her ladyship and Mrs. Patmore," Alfred said, then added under his breath, "I don't know who frightens me more."
Jimmy eyed the trays loaded with pies and biscuits. "I'll bet a crown I can eat more than you, Alfred," he said smugly.
"You what?"
The hall boys tittered amongst themselves. "Enough, gentlemen…" Mr. Carson growled.
Alfred had continued to chafe at the idea of Jimmy being promoted to first footman and Jimmy knew that this—along with Alfred's less-than-muscular physique and unrequited love for Ivy—were the former waiter's weakest spots. And Jimmy loved nothing better (except for Thomas) to tease Alfred to the point of blushing and sputtering.
Thomas rolled his eyes from behind his newspaper. He had hoped that his more mature influence would have begun to calm Jimmy's tendencies toward arrogance but sometimes Jimmy just couldn't help himself when it came to Alfred.
"I hope you know what you're getting into, since you're so small." Alfred stage-whispered, spraying spittle on the table.
"But you're ugly so I'd say I'm already on top," Jimmy snarled.
Alfred chuckled and said loudly, "That's not the way I heard things were going late last night."
Bates shot Alfred a look that choked the laughter in his throat. There had been an unspoken understanding amongst the staff that Thomas and Jimmy were now, in fact, close and after the unpleasantness between the two men that happened more than a year ago, this closeness was far better than the tension that preceded it.
Over the past few months, a tentative friendship had blossomed. What began with a few friendly card games grew into late-night confessions, and when a tipsy declaration of love fell from Jimmy's lips, Thomas felt the tight coil of desire he perpetually carried in his chest for Jimmy finally begin to unwind. At that moment, at the age of 36, Thomas Barrow found that his life had finally begun.
That night, and virtually every one after, like a poem that never ended, was dedicated to Thomas memorizing every muscle, every line, every way he knew to make Jimmy sigh and laugh and moan and cry.
The hall boys were now in hysterics, and Thomas tried to appear oblivious and engrossed in the newspaper as he held his breath waiting for Jimmy's response. Don't take his bait … don't take his bait … don't take his bait.
"You're going to regret this, you stupid twig."
"Hark at him!" Alfred barked at the room. "Is that a threat?"
"No it's a promise," Jimmy seethed.
"You're on."
Mr. Carson slowly rose from his chair and said, "Well, I refuse to be a witness to such a revolting display of gluttony but as long as it rids the house of these offending nuts then by all means, have at it. Good night." He reached over to the tray and grabbed a handful of biscuits and caught Mrs. Hughes smiling at him.
"For later, Mrs. Hughes, if you'd care to join me," Mr. Carson whispered. "Let's not leave it to the whippersnappers to enjoy an indulgence or two."
"Oh, Mr. Carson!" Mrs. Hughes giggled as she stood and added a quick, "Good night, all."
The rest of the staff said their goodnights so all that remained were Jimmy, Alfred and the hall boys, Peter and Henry. Daisy and Ivy came in from the kitchen.
"Let's see who can eat the most in a minute. Mr. Barrow, you keep time, yeah?"
"Certainly, I'd be delighted," Thomas drawled, his cigarette bobbing up and down as he spoke and then reached inside his vest for his pocket watch.
"No, make it five." Jimmy said.
Thomas shook his head slightly and said to both men, "I hope you know what you're getting into." He looked at his watch and said, "Ready? On the count of three, go."
Alfred and Jimmy glowered at each other as they hovered their hands over the biscuits and pies, anxiously awaiting the signal to start eating.
"One … two … three."
Alfred had made it through 19 biscuits and half of a mince pie when he threw in the towel.
"I surrender," Alfred groaned, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach. "I'm completely stuffed. Has it been five minutes yet, Mr. Barrow?"
Thomas checked his watch. It had actually been eight minutes. He had lost track of time, waffling between being highly repulsed and incredibly aroused at the sight of his lover shoving food into his mouth with both hands.
"Um yes, Alfred, just gone five. Time's up, lads," he said, putting his watch back into his vest pocket.
Ivy clapped loudly and giggled at Jimmy's win, while Peter and Henry shook their heads in disappointment at their hero Alfred's defeat. Daisy looked as if she were about to cry.
Thomas smirked and applauded slowly, then picked up his paper again and pretended to read it.
Alfred got up and clapped Jimmy on the shoulder, "I don't know how you did it, mate. You must've got two hollow legs or somethin' like that." He leaned over and whispered in his left ear, "You best believe next time it'll be your loss." Daisy opened her mouth to speak comforting words to Alfred but he brushed past her without a glance. She followed him glumly up the stairs.
Jimmy was staring straight ahead looking decidedly green. Ivy kissed Jimmy on the cheek and he turned even greener.
"I knew you could do it, Jimmy," she murmured in his right ear. "You're ever so strong." She turned on her heel and floated blissfully toward the stairs, while Peter and Henry quickly snatched up all of the contest's remnants and scurried up behind her.
Once all of the servants were safely in their rooms, Thomas put down the paper and lit a cigarette, watching Jimmy's face carefully. The footman sat stock still, a barely audible groan coming from his lips.
Thomas exhaled a long stream of smoke and quietly asked, "You alright?"
There was a long pause followed by a weak, "No," in reply.
"Let's get you upstairs."
Jimmy had crawled slowly up the steps and now stood helplessly in the middle of his room, bending slightly and clutching at his stomach and whimpering in misery. Every time Thomas tried to help him stand up straight to get undressed, he would whine and swat him away.
"Jimmy you need to get out of your livery. He looked at Jimmy's backside, "I think you've gone and ripped your trousers up the seat. You need to take them off before any more damage is done."
"Ugh. Noooooooo." Jimmy keened. "I can't. I feel like I'm about to burst."
"Well then, all the more reason to take them off. You don't want to them sent off to London to be mended. Mr. Carson'll have your guts for garters."
Jimmy grumbled, "Very funny."
"Hah. Guts. Sorry, poor choice of words there."
Thomas performed an awkward dance as he slipped off Jimmy's jacket, waistcoat and shirt (a quick task given that all of the buttons had popped off) while Jimmy stood as limp and listless as a rag doll, moaning and near tears.
"There. All those clothes off," Thomas said brightly as he kissed the top of Jimmy's head. "Feels better, yeah?" The footman mumbled an incoherent reply, stumbled to the bed and sat down heavily with an unbearable groan.
Jimmy leaned back on his arms and Thomas looked down in wonder at the footman's bulging belly straining against his undershirt.
"Jesus, Jimmy. What have you done?" Thomas whispered. He looks like he's … what … three, four months gone? he thought. Thomas had experience gauging pregnancies—his mother's. Eight babies after Thomas but only three surviving children. His heart always filled with dread whenever she began to get thick around the middle yet again, meaning more crying to keep him awake at night and less food to fill his belly.
"Don't. Judge. Me." Jimmy ground out through gritted teeth. "It was worth it."
Thomas knelt down in front of Jimmy and removed the footman's shoes and socks, carefully setting them aside. When he was finished, he looked up and got an eyeful. Jimmy's eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was hanging open almost in delight as he began to massage his swollen belly slowly with both hands. Every painful moan uttered by the younger man beginning to sound like ones of pleasure to Thomas' eager ears.
Thomas swallowed and suddenly felt lightheaded.
"There. That's it then. Now for your trousers," he said thickly. He looked pointedly from the floor to the ceiling and back again … anything to avoid the disarmingly erotic sight before him. He began to sweat.
It was sheer torture to have to listen and see Jimmy in such a state. There was a fine line between pleasure and pain, and at that moment, Thomas wanted nothing more than to have Jimmy in any way possible. A vision flashed before Thomas' eyes of Jimmy straddling him, enveloping Thomas' cock in his velvet heat, groaning in either agony or ecstasy while Thomas hungrily ran his hands along the sweet swell underneath Jimmy's chest over and over … again and again and again … until he …
An irritated cry of, "Thomas!" sent the under butler tumbling back to earth. He shook his head from side to side like a wet dog to try and rid himself of the tempting image.
"Yes, love?"
"I'm hot."
"Mmmmm. It's so STIFILING in here and it's November! Blimey," Thomas said, his tone a bit too enthusiastic as he tried to fan himself with his hands while pacing back and forth. He went to the tiny window and opened it.
Jimmy grunted in response, pivoted on the bed and, after two unsuccessful attempts, swung his legs up so that they were resting on the mattress. He laid back and let out a moan in relief.
"Well I best be going then." Thomas said with one hand on the doorknob.
"Please, Thomas. Don't leave me here to die alone."
"You're not going to die. You just won't be able to shite again before the New Year. That's all."
"Ahhhhh, god. I'm begging you to stay. Oompf."
"I don't think that's such a good idea. Not in your current state that is." Or mine, Thomas thought.
"Why the hell not?"
Thomas looked down at his crotch. Jimmy's eyes followed Thomas' and then he snarled his lips in disgust.
"Jesus, Thomas. I'm dying here and all you're thinking about is bloody buggering!" he shouted.
Thomas panicked and shushed him, hissing, "Do you want everyone to hear you? Keep your mouth shut for once in your life!"
"Well, stop thinking with your cock for once in your life and have a little sympathy." Jimmy hissed back.
Thomas closed his eyes to avoid rolling them at Jimmy's statement. Sympathy for a man-child who lets his foolish pride determine his course of action. Not that I have any experience at all with something like that, he thought.
Thomas knelt again by Jimmy's bed and took a deep breath to try and reign in his arousal, but the act of touching Jimmy anywhere—and even the mere thought of touching Jimmy was enough to make him completely undone. He began to lightly stroke Jimmy's arm with his right hand, feeling the soft, downy hair there and ran his fingers soothingly through Jimmy's damp curls with the left. He needs me. He needs me. He needs me.
Jimmy purred under Thomas' touch, and Thomas allowed his gaze to fall upon the bulge underneath Jimmy's undershirt. His heart pounded more as he struggled for the words to describe the sensations he was experiencing. He was so used to seeing the rippling of muscles underneath smooth golden skin. But having Jimmy laid out before him, so soft and vulnerable and ACHING was too much for Thomas to bear.
He was dying to reach out and run his hands across the tempting mound in front of him. There was something so primal about seeing his lover with such a feminine curve on his exquisitely masculine body. It was an unexpected thrill that Thomas couldn't begin to explain or even understand. Jimmy was lying there, so open, so needy. The only thing that mattered to Thomas—and at that moment he felt had ever mattered in his entire life—was to caress and kiss this new, slightly dangerous rise on his lover's midsection.
"Look, I'm sorry. I can't help it, love. I know you're uncomfortable, yes, but you're so …" Thomas' breath quickened. "You're so … mmmmm … so … round." he said hoarsely. "Ripe, even."
Thomas felt he was freefalling in dread at hearing his own voice use such a word and felt a sudden fresh rush of blood between his legs. He had never uttered it aloud and immediately regretted it, and steadied himself for a new stream of insults to spew from the footman's mouth.
Instead Jimmy wriggled (or tried to wriggle as best he could given his new girth) on the bed and flapped his arms helplessly.
"No. No. No. No. No. Not tonight with all of that." he said shaking his head vigorously. Be a medic. You and everyone else is always going on and on about that. Please. Somehow. Ow."
Thomas silently chastised himself for being so selfish and quietly said, "Yes, love, of course. I hate to see you suffer so. I will do my best."
Thomas grunted as he got up off of the floor and took off his jacket, tie and vest and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers. He managed to squeeze himself in the shoebox-sized space left next to Jimmy on the bed. Thomas sat and turned to relieve the pressure building between his legs as well as easily reach every square inch of Jimmy's aching belly. He laid a shaky, careful hand (the good one) on the top and slid it underneath Jimmy's undershirt. He began to softly rub the smooth, tight flesh it covered.
Jimmy hummed, "Hnnnn … ugh … ow … oooh … oh." He closed his eyes and raised his arms to his head and let them rest on either side of the pillow.
"How does that feel?" Thomas tried to say in his most objective, professional voice.
"Ahhh. Ohhh. It hurts but it feels … feels … good." Jimmy sighed and arched his back as much as his bloated belly would allow into Thomas' touch.
Yes, feels good, too. Too good, Thomas mused. He surreptitiously (or so he thought) moved his left hand to his erection and palmed it, inhaling a groan and relishing the hardness and the warmth he could sense through the fabric. Thomas began to slide his hand up and down his length. He would have given anything to be able to reach down into his trousers so he could feel his heated skin on his fingertips while still gently exploring the uncharted territory of Jimmy's round belly.
Jimmy shifted on the bed, turning his head toward Thomas and asked, "Owww ... Thomas can you reach …" He opened his eyes and glanced down into Thomas' lap, his face a mirror image of his expression the night Thomas had crept into his bedroom.
"Are you TOUCHING yourself right now?" Jimmy snapped.
Thomas' hand flew from his lap and he tucked it under his thigh to keep it trapped. "No, I just have an itch that's all," he said with a nonchalant shrug.
"You're a TERRIBLE liar," Jimmy fumed. He struggled and failed to sit up. "That's why your stupid …ugh … ow … plans never worked."
"They worked once. You're mine, yeah?" Thomas surprised himself at his quick response.
He was starting to learn how to play the game with Jimmy. Jimmy's moods were as quick to change as the weather; if Thomas just let him stew in his cloud of anger, the tender yet pleasingly arrogant Jimmy he had fallen in love with would return as fast as he had disappeared.
And Jimmy liked that he had someone to play with who wouldn't be in a snit all day about something he said. Alfred took everything at face value, a master of sarcasm he was not. The hall boys were useless for anything except to ooh and aah over one of Jimmy's card tricks, or laugh at his ridiculously juvenile (yet funny) dirty jokes. And Ivy and Daisy were, well, Ivy and Daisy.
"You can just bloody well forget about that. I'm never letting you TOUCH me much less FUCK me ever again. YOU HEAR ME?" Jimmy yelped.
Thomas leaned down and placed his ear against Jimmy's belly, relishing the rumblings within and cooed, "You don't really mean that. It's just the biscuits talking. Shhhhh … ahhhhh."
Jimmy swatted at his head and Thomas ducked and smiled into his navel.
"Get up. Your goddamn head's too heavy. Put your hands where I can see them," Jimmy barked, straining to lift his head off of the pillow.
Thomas laid his right hand palm down onto Jimmy's chest and waited while drumming his fingers.
"BOTH. OF. THEM." Thomas placed the left next to the right and sniffed.
Jimmy squinted at him. "Now here's the rule. They stay on me. NOT YOU," he ordered.
Thomas' reply of, "Yes, milady" earned him another swat and a sharp rebuke, "I'm in agony here and you're being ridiculous and WANKING OFF AS I LAY HERE DYING. Oh Jesus, just call me home now."
"Enough with the histrionics, Jimmy. You're hurting my ears."
"Uh. You're hurting. You don't know anything about real pain. Ow. Ugh."
Thomas knew what it was like to be stupid, and Jimmy had been stupid. But being scared—really scared—was something Jimmy hadn't really experienced yet, and if it were up to Thomas, he would keep Jimmy away from harm forever. Being so scared that the only thing you could do was to inflict the worst pain possible upon yourself. Yes, it was stupid, but it was about survival.
It was as if Jimmy could complete Thomas' thoughts. "Your hand. I'm sorry," Jimmy said glumly. "And the bloody fair, too."
Thomas smiled and said, "Never mind. I know it's the biscuits and pies talking." He took off his glove and left it next to Jimmy on the bed. Thomas rolled up his sleeves, cracked his knuckles and gently began to massage Jimmy's belly.
Before he knew what was happening, Thomas suddenly found his tongue in Jimmy's navel.
"Oooh, Thomas! What the bloody hell are you playing at?"
Thomas' mouth hung open in shame. He stifled a sob and said, "Please forgive me, Jimmy. I just love you so much and seeing you like this it's too much. I don't know what's happening to me. I want you so badly like this. Just once. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything you want."
Jimmy could hear the conflict and the ache and the genuine feeling of love behind every word. He was dazed. He had never heard Thomas speak much more than two or three sentences at a time and here he was, dripping out his feelings like a leaky faucet. Jimmy felt a flicker of desire deep down that was quickly crushed by pain. But seeing Thomas' eyes …the eyes that looked so cold to so many … full of sheer devotion. "Evil" Thomas Barrow loves me. I've changed him. He loves me.
Jimmy covered his face with his hands and begrudgingly gave in and cried, "Oh alright. Ohhhhhhh. Just whatever you need to do, make it quick, please."
"Yes, love. Oh yes." Thomas breathed in gratitude.
Thomas put one arm under Jimmy's knees and lifted them so that his legs were bent while his feet remained on the bed. After a soft push on Jimmy's left inner thigh, Thomas knelt in between his open legs and placed his hands on either side of Jimmy's hips. He leaned down onto his elbows, freeing his hands to awkwardly touch Jimmy without crushing him with his weight on Jimmy's already sensitive stomach.
Thomas' breath became faster and he was afraid for a moment that Jimmy could hear the sound of his heart pounding, demanding to be freed from his chest.
"Mmmmmmm." Thomas growled. He gently squeezed the sides of Jimmy's belly and dipped his tongue into his navel. Jimmy shuddered as Thomas licked and rubbed and bit his belly over and over again, Thomas fingering the biscuits and pie fighting for the space within under his hands and his lips.
"Do you like this?" Thomas said into Jimmy's navel.
"It's ever so … nice but I'm hurting." Jimmy said as he tried to move to a more comfortable spot on the flimsy mattress.
"I'll make you feel better." Thomas muttered in between kisses. "All better, love."
"Please make it quick."
"Alright … hah. Mmmmmmm. Ahhhhhhh. Oh, Jimmy. Mmmmmmmm. Nnnnnnh," Thomas moaned in delight, like he was sybaritically indulging in a rare steak. Bleeding on the plate, so tender, so rich. Each mouthful better than the last, each bite adding fuel to his desire.
Jimmy strained to raise his head to look down at his belly, slick with Thomas' saliva and turning bright pink in scattered spots where Thomas had pressed his teeth. If it had been any other night under any other circumstances, the sight would have aroused him so that he would have grabbed the back of Thomas' head and shoved his full length up into Thomas' willing throat right about now. But the weight and the pain and the sheer fullness left his cock limp in spite of Thomas' ministrations.
"Thomas, are you almost finished?" Jimmy whispered.
Thomas stopped suddenly at the sound of Jimmy's voice and glanced up at him with saliva dripping down his chin and into Jimmy's navel.
"Oh god, my love. I'm so sorry. I lost myself … I lost myself," Thomas said shakily as he wiped his face on his sleeve and added, "God, what you do to me," under his breath.
Jimmy sighed heavily and asked, "Well, what now?"
Thomas took his hands off of Jimmy and ripped open his fly and yanked down his trousers and underwear in one swift movement. He grabbed his unbearably hard cock and leaned down a bit and dropped it onto Jimmy's quivering belly with a soft thump.
"Ow, Jesus!" Jimmy squeaked. "Be more careful, yeah?"
Thomas walked his hands down Jimmy's sides to place them on either side of Jimmy's head. He rested his elbows on the bed and stared into Jimmy's hazel eyes, rimmed with fatigue and pain. Thomas kissed him slowly and sweetly on the lips while he cupped his flushed cheeks. Jimmy opened his mouth to allow Thomas' tongue to slip inside. Thomas groaned softly and began to suck on Jimmy's bottom lip and then reentered his mouth to gently wrestle with Jimmy's tongue, forgetting that his belly was beginning to press on the younger man's painful midsection.
"Ooof. Watch it!"
Thomas raised himself on his knees and said, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I'm so selfish. I'm sorry I'm not good at being comforting. I'm sorry for a lot of things but I love and want you so much it that it kills me," Thomas said quietly as he quickly became breathless.
"I-I love every bit of you and s-seeing you … you like this, needing me. Oh g-god Jimmy, nobody's ever needed me. Nobody's ever needed me like you do."
Thomas began to lower just his hips and tried to press his erection against the smooth, stretched-tight flesh of Jimmy's belly. He began to rock back and forth in an attempt at some sort of weak friction between his now sticky cock and Jimmy's saliva-slicked body.
Jimmy attempted to tell Thomas that it was alright. That really anything he did was always enough. Just the fact that he was here and that he was his was all that mattered.
Thomas was complicated, more complicated than any other man Jimmy had ever fallen for. He was like a stray dog that needed to be coaxed out of its shyness, with feelings being pulled out of him like a never-ending scarf drawn out of a magician's hat. There was no end to the complex combination of bitterness and sweetness that were somehow bonded together to form the enigma that was Thomas Barrow.
"Every night there's something new. With you. With us. Like this. You need me and, oh, how I need you," Thomas said with his eyes focused on Jimmy's. He began to pick up the pace with his hips as his cock stickily slid against the full arc of Jimmy's bloated belly.
"Ow. Ow. Thomas, faster please," Jimmy moaned as he balled up the sheets in his two fists. "I'm dying. Oh."
"Oh god, when you say that, I'm dying, too. It'll be quick. I'm already so close just seeing you lying there and then I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you," Thomas ground out.
"That's all well and good. Just hurry it up."
Thomas felt the pressure building, the need for release, and it felt so good, SO good. He needed this. He needed everything and every part of Jimmy.
"I am. I am. I am. Oh god, hearing you. Touching you. Ahhhhhh. I'm so c-c-lose. Oh fuck. Oh god Jimmy. I love you. Oh god Jimmy … Jimmy … ahhhhh … nggggh …ahhhhhhhh. God."
He leaned back with a groan and grabbed his erection with his good hand as he came all over Jimmy's belly, the semen dripping down the sides and onto the bed. (He would never come all over Jimmy's face; he found it to be degrading but would willingly do it if Jimmy wanted him to. Anything Jimmy asked for was already his.)
Thomas stroked himself until he was completely spent and sighed. Forgetting that he was still wearing his trousers, he tumbled off of the bed onto the floor and crawled across it to get a towel.
"Could you be any louder? What if Carson wakes up?" Jimmy growled.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Thomas whispered as he started to softly wipe Jimmy clean.
"And quit apologizing. I know I'm irresistible no matter what," Jimmy said with a small grin.
Thomas laughed and took off his trousers, shoes and socks. "Roll over. Let me lie down," he said.
The bed dipped in the middle with the weight of the two men. Thomas spooned against Jimmy and wrapped his arm around Jimmy's belly and slowly caressed it. Jimmy moaned appreciatively (albeit now a bit less wantonly to Thomas' ears) as Thomas attempted to soothe the pain.
"I'm sorry I'm not good enough to be what you need," Thomas sniffed.
Jimmy opened his mouth to tell him he was wrong but quickly shut his lips. He was enjoying this Thomas, so full of thoughts and feelings that he didn't want to interrupt.
"I … I'm trying. I'm trying so hard. I don't want to let you down. You and I have been through so much. And, by some miracle, you trusted me. Even though I haven't prayed since the Somme, you make me thank God every day that we're together. I want to be everything to you. Everything you need and deserve."
A comfortable silence fell between the two men. Jimmy waited to see if Thomas had any more to say, and then spoke himself, "You are, Thomas. And, I like it when you talk to me like that. You should do it more often."
Thomas squeezed him tightly.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow! Too much too much!"
"Oh, sorry, sorry."
"That's alright. Mmmmm … I love you anyway."
They lay quietly together for several minutes, the only sound being Jimmy's faint whining, and then Jimmy's faint snoring.
Thomas's hand stopped its caresses as he gave into exhaustion and thought, This what I want. This is what I deserve, too.
In the servants' hall two days later, Bates looked across the table at Thomas with a smile and said, "Well Mr. Barrow, it seems we do have a lot in common."
"Oh?" Thomas said casually, feigning disinterest yet secretly dying of curiosity.
"Young James here told me that you love Mrs. Patmore's brownies, too. Said you were boasting that you could eat more than I," Bates chortled with a subtle wink at Jimmy that Thomas managed to miss. Bates snorted and added, "That sounds like a challenge to me."
Thomas turned to Jimmy and visibly stiffened. Jimmy grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders in exaggerated innocence as Thomas' blood began to boil.
The one thing. The ONLY thing that gnawed at Thomas to obsession was Bates; a fact he was cursing himself for letting slip to Jimmy. Although love and contentment had smoothed out some of the sharper edges of Thomas' personality, he still held the valet in contempt. Saint John of Downton, with his smug toadlike face and disappearing limp and cozy cottage and blissful marriage that everyone thought was SO romantic. Despite the man helping him to remain at Downton, old hatreds after a lifetime of building walls was were hard for Thomas to let crumble away completely … especially the thought of Bates besting him at ANYTHING.
"You're on."