Jimmy couldn't get enough of Thomas, and in Thomas' eyes, the sun rose and set upon his new lover.

The footman was fascinated by Thomas' hair. Not just the shiny black on the top of his head that fell so appealingly into his eyes but the tantalizing glimpses he got when, on the rare occasion, Thomas was in his shirtsleeves, his forearms revealing a dark promise of the rest of him. Jimmy found his heart racing even at the servants' table; Thomas would reach for the butter and his jacket sleeve would ride up, exposing a slightly hairy wrist.

Jimmy, by contrast, was virtually smooth, and covered in very fine blond hair that his mother used to call "angel floss" as she bathed him as a child. He seemed to lack the ability to even grow a beard, oftentimes examining his face in the mirror with distain, checking each pore for evidence of a rough, manly hair poking its way through. I'm 24 goddamnit, Jimmy thought. Where's my real hair?

The truth was, Jimmy was still frightened of Thomas. Frightened of the feelings he had for the other man, who was, in fact, a MAN. He's homosexual and he's perfectly manly, Jimmy said to himself. He's not flouncing about all lavender, he's a MAN.

Jimmy had professed his love for Thomas late in the summer after the Thirsk Fair. Thomas originally chalked up his confession to the shock and stress of Mr. Matthew's death, and kept Jimmy at arm's length, begging him to stop with the letters and the looks and the presents. Finally, when Jimmy's ardor failed to cool with the autumn weather, Thomas gave in, and the two men had begun gently exploring each other. They kissed fully clothed in their livery. They hugged fully clothed. They ground their erections together fully clothed. Jimmy wanted to take it very, very slowly and Thomas was overjoyed to comply with anything the footman wanted, even if it meant changing his pants and cleaning his trousers frequently to rid them of the evidence of Jimmy's effect on him.

Jimmy himself was often left peeling off his sticky clothes in the middle of the day. He hated the feeling, hated the dirtiness of it. He was in love with Thomas, and ached to be with him properly in a bed, doing whatever exactly it was men did with other men. He had some ideas in mind of the mechanics of it all, but still wasn't sure if his imagination even compared to the real thing. And he didn't dare ask Thomas.

Jimmy tried to reason with himself that Thomas was just a man like any other. He loved his smile, his warmth that he kept hidden from the rest of the world, his scathing wit. He loved being scratched by Thomas' stubble against his cheeks; he was just so HAIRY that Carson admonished him on several occasions to shave during the day to rid himself of his "Noon Shadow" as the butler called it. Jimmy even loved pulling on the hair of Thomas' wrists, leaving the older man yelping like a kicked puppy.

But to be confronted with a naked, hairy MAN was overwhelming to Jimmy. It both excited him and scared him. He was tired of the secrecy and the juvenile clothed fumbles, and worked up the courage to make the very next move.

One night Thomas was in his room changing into his nightclothes. He and Jimmy had agreed to call it an early night after a quick grope in the fourth best china closet. Thomas had just stepped into his striped pajama pants when there was a soft knock at the door and a familiar click of the knob turning.

Jimmy stood in front of him in his pajamas but without a robe. Thomas froze and tried to hide a smile as the footman sat on the edge of his bed, his face emotionless except for the blood flooding into his cheeks, betraying the cool exterior he was trying to convey.

"I … I … want to … try … something, but when I say stop you stop, yeah?"

Thomas felt his heart leap into his throat but managed to croak, "Yeah."

"Sit on the bed, please."

Thomas complied, secretly thrilled over whatever was about to happen. Thomas had no clue, but whatever Jimmy wanted- whenever Jimmy wanted it-it became his.

Jimmy tugged at the hem of his white undershirt and said, "Take this off." with the same matter-of-fact tone Mrs. Patmore used to instruct the kitchen maids right before she escalated to the screeching that left the girls flustered.

"Yes, Mmm. …" Thomas almost said Mrs. Patmore, but bit his tongue. He was always afraid of scaring Jimmy away, like a mouse, into his private space never to been seen or shared again.

Thomas reached back to his collar and lifted off the shirt, throwing it on the floor. He shifted around so that he faced Jimmy, whose eyes immediately focused onto the thick, dark curly hair covering his chest.

Oh god, it's like moss! Patchy moss! Jimmy cried out to himself. The hair looked soft. It looked scratchy. It looked primal … sexual.

Jimmy quickly turned his head away and said in a small voice that wasn't his own, "May I?"

"Anything," Thomas said a little too quickly. "Anything you want Jimmy, you know that."

Jimmy reached out with a trembling hand and, for lack of a better word, gently petted Thomas' chest, watching his fingers disappear into the dark hair. Thomas shivered underneath his touch, and watched breathlessly as Jimmy began to gently grab and pull and twist his hair.

Jimmy's fingers slipped over Thomas' right nipple, causing the older man to gasp. The footman smiled as if daydreaming, and ran his hand over Thomas' now hard nipple again.

"Jimmy. Oh god, I've waited so long," Thomas moaned, and reached out to pull off Jimmy's nightshirt.

"Lie down," Jimmy heard a voice say and realized it was his own.

Thomas quickly pulled his hands back and settled down onto the mattress. Jimmy lay down beside him as much as the bed would allow and lazily raked his fingernails through Thomas' chest hair. He sat up slightly and with a sigh, rested his cheek onto Thomas' chest and wrapped his arm around his waist. He then turned his head and inhaled deeply, finally getting to the scent of the man underneath the pomade and cologne and cigarettes that lingered in Jimmy's nose and in his mind.

Thomas' essence was so unlike Jimmy's. Thomas was musky, salty, woodsy, manly … but not frightening, Jimmy was relieved to discover. He breathed in again and again, feeling Thomas' heartbeat through the tip of his nose, his hair tickling his nostrils, never wanting to stop. This was his now, this was home.

Thomas ran a tentative hand through Jimmy's blond hair, afraid to speak. Jimmy reached across him and circled his thumb absently around Thomas' nipple. The underbutler's chest began to move up and down faster, and he tilted his head back and groaned. Jimmy responded by sitting up and using both hands to tantalizingly sweep across Thomas' nipples.

"You like that, yeah?" Jimmy asked with a grin.

"You have NO idea how much, my love," Thomas growled. "Christ, it's good."

Jimmy leaned down and began to suck and bite at each nipple, every incidence of contact causing Thomas to gasp. He could feel Thomas' erection against his belly, and felt like he needed to do something about his own. Jimmy slipped off his pajama bottoms and pants and—letting his heart and his cock be his guides-straddled Thomas' hips. The older man looked down, his eyes as wide as saucers, at the sight of Jimmy's thick cock resting on top of him.

Jimmy awkwardly shifted himself closer to Thomas' chest and buried his cock into the dark curly hair. It felt rough but good … and right. Jimmy took himself in hand and spread his precum around his erection, and then set it back onto Thomas. Jimmy began to rock slowly, scraping his cock along the roughness, getting the perfect amount of friction. Thomas' mouth was hanging open in amazement or arousal—or both. He placed his hands on Jimmy's hips to urge him to move faster and assure him that this was good … and right.

Thomas whispered words of encouragement, each syllable a shot of adrenaline to Jimmy. The footman held the sides of his head, running his thumbs across Thomas' cheek. They looked deeply into each other's eyes as Jimmy started to grind faster and dripped sweat onto Thomas, who happily tried to catch each drop with his tongue.

Jimmy furrowed his brow and cried, "Thomas, I-I-I'm going to …"

Thomas gripped his hips tighter and gently coaxed him, "That's it. Let it go. It's alright. God, I love you. I love you, Jimmy. Let go."

Jimmy arched his back and came with a moan as Thomas opened his mouth to catch as much of Jimmy's seed as he could. Jimmy watched in wonder and confusion as Thomas licked his lips clean with a satisfied grunt.

Jimmy climbed off of Thomas and shakily put back on his pants and pajama bottoms. He thought that things like that happened between men but to see Thomas so utterly RAW and confident about being so RAW was startling.

Thomas rose and put his elbows on his knees. He watched Jimmy forlornly, and then got out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Jimmy asked almost in a panic, unsure as what to do or where to go next.

"I'm going to the lavatory. Got things to take care of," Thomas said abruptly.

"No, no. Stay here. Please."

"Judging by your reaction, I really shouldn't."

"I'm sorry. It's just all a bit … much ... and it's my fault. I don't want you to leave."

Jimmy swallowed nervously and steeled himself. They had gone this far; there really wasn't any turning back now.

Thomas shook his head but climbed back onto the bed and turned on his side to face the wall. He wriggled his pajama bottoms and pants down past his arse, and Jimmy's heart skipped a beat at the sight and the glimpse of dark hair on Thomas' thighs.

"No. Turn over. I want to watch you."

Thomas glanced at Jimmy over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow and said softly, "You sure?"

"Yes." Jimmy replied, almost confidently.

Thomas rolled over onto his back as Jimmy sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands resting chastely in his lap.

"Alright then," Thomas said and took himself in hand and closed his eyes. "It won't take long. I'm already very close."

"I know," Jimmy whispered. "You can look at me if you'd like."

Thomas sighed in relief, "I'd like that, Jimmy. I'd like that a lot."

Jimmy took off his pajama shirt and undershirt, exposing his smooth golden chest. He compared his to Thomas' and crossed his arms against himself and watched the older man. Thomas' chest hair faded into nothing down his belly, where a dark trail began underneath his navel, leading to his cock. Jimmy felt so inadequate and almost feminine compared to the man lying next to him.

Thomas bit his lips together and cried out at the sight before him, "God, Jimmy. You're so beautiful. And you're here, not in my dreams anymore. Fuck, you're here."

Jimmy looked away almost bashfully; he felt embarrassed for himself and Thomas—that he was witnessing Thomas perform such an intimate, primitive act.

Thomas began squeezing and pumping himself faster and harder and begged Jimmy to look at him. Jimmy acquiesced just as Thomas was on the brink, and they locked eyes again. The footman ran his own hands across his chest slowly, and knew precisely the reaction he was going to receive.

Thomas' face was almost a mask of pain. He arched his back and moaned Jimmy's name and started sobbing as he came all over his belly and chest, the white strands clinging to his chest hair. He threw his hands down by his sides in surrender and tried to catch his breath.

Jimmy felt himself overwhelmed by his love for Thomas as he watched the tears roll down the sides of his eyes into his ears. Seeing a grown man cry … a manly MAN … a hairy MAN … made him realize that THIS was good … and right.

Jimmy massaged gentle circles around Thomas' belly, then danced his fingers up to his chest hair and swiped a bit of cum and placed it on his tongue. He leaned down to kiss Thomas and silenced his cries.

"Next time. More." Jimmy said against Thomas neck as he nuzzled him and reran his fingernails through Thomas' chest hair.

"More?" Thomas repeated, almost dazed, and Jimmy nodded yes.

Thomas kissed him on top of his blond head and closed his eyes.