A/N: This is rated NC-17, so if you're a kiddie please leave now.

I wrote this for Flippyspoon's Smut Playing Cards Challenge. My prompts were: reversal of usual roles or creative positioning and Jimmy's tie or Persian rug. Special thanks to alittlewhos-this for giving me confidence in the idea :) This was very fun to write!

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, smut, voyeurism, masturbation, light bondage, rimming.

It was late, and Jimmy was bored.

Normally he lived for this time of night—counted the minutes impatiently all day, just so he could find himself in exactly this moment, when all was quiet and he and Thomas could be alone at last.

If it were any other night they would already be together; Jimmy would have Thomas's hands, and his arms around him, and they'd be talking or touching right now.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Jimmy was alone. His lordship had dragged Thomas away with him to London to fill in as valet because Mr. Bates had a silly cold, of all things. Thomas wouldn't be back for another five days.

Jimmy scowled down at the latest issue of Picturegoer, the words and photographs unable to hold his attention. It was ridiculous that he should miss Thomas so much after only a day's separation and he knew it, but he couldn't help it, either. It was their first night apart since they had begun… well, this love business. Jimmy didn't remember what he used to do with himself before Thomas. His body didn't know either: desire had been circling his bloodstream since eight, accustomed by now to gratification… Jimmy tried to ignore it. Stubbornly, he didn't want to do anything about it until Thomas came back and could take care of it himself. It were his job now they were lovers, really, though Jimmy thought it would be best not to say such a thing out loud.

Groaning, Jimmy abandoned the magazine and sat up on the bed. He looked around his room for something else to distract him, but all he could see was the absence of Thomas in it.

He had better be missing me just as much, Jimmy thought with a scowl, or I'll bloody well do him in when he gets back.

Deciding anything else was a lost cause, Jimmy switched off the light and tucked himself under the coverlet, closing his eyes deliberately. If he went to sleep now, tomorrow would come that much sooner and he would be one day closer to Thomas's return.

Yes, best sleep now.

But—his pillow smelled musty. He hadn't slept in his own bed in weeks, and the sodding thing now felt stiff and chilly and unfamiliar beneath him. Huffing in frustration, Jimmy punched the pillow and turned onto his side, the way he usually slept, only now Thomas wasn't there to hold on to. These days Jimmy always slept pressed close to Thomas's back, or with Thomas's arms around him, and the absence of him felt lonely and wrong.

"Bugger," Jimmy groaned, turning on his other side instead. He felt completely ridiculous; he'd done just fine by himself long before he'd ever met Mr. Barrow, and he wasn't so lovesick and soppy that he couldn't bear to be without him now. At least, he hoped not.

Endless minutes ticked by, but Jimmy still felt wide awake and thoroughly out of sorts.

Cursing, Jimmy kicked off his blanket and sat up. He wondered if Thomas were experiencing similar difficulties away in London. A selfish part of him hoped so—he didn't want to be the only pathetic sod in this relationship.

He supposed he could try to sleep in Thomas's bed, even though the man himself wasn't there. At least his pillow wouldn't smell like dust. Jimmy would just have to make sure Thomas didn't know what he'd done when he got back; it would be too humiliating.

Jimmy rolled out of bed and tip toed across the hall to Thomas's room. Once inside, he shut the door quietly behind him and leaned against it, sighing in relief. He did feel better in here; the air smelled faintly of Thomas, and somehow it wasn't so drafty and cold as Jimmy's room. He relaxed, feeling some of the tension ease out of him.

He felt his way to the bed in the dark and laid down, drawing the blankets around him and breathing in the scent of them. Yes, much, much better…

He was just staring to drift off when it occurred to him that he was in Thomas's room, alone. He'd never been in here alone for longer than a few moments at a time, but now that Thomas was away… Jimmy could explore all he wanted. He could snoop, discover all the little things about Thomas he didn't already know.

Suddenly very awake, Jimmy sat back up and turned on the lamp. With only a twinge of guilt he opened the top drawer of the nightstand.

Of course it was wrong to invade your lover's privacy and he knew it. Thomas might be angry with him when he returned—in fact, Jimmy was almost certain he would be— but even the prospect of Thomas's displeasure couldn't quell Jimmy's overwhelming curiosity. He began to dig into Thomas's things with glee, his meager guilt ebbing away with every new discovery.

Thomas was a tidy sort, Jimmy knew, but he did seem to collect lots of little odds and ends. Jimmy found a whole tin full of buttons in the bottom drawer, which delighted him inexplicably, as well as another box fairly bursting with bits of wire and clockwork. It looked as if he were in the middle of mending a very handsome silver pocket watch.

He also found a few items that were clearly mementos from him—Thomas had kept every crossword from Pearson's that they'd ever done together, as well as the comb Jimmy had given him for Christmas and the pretty blue stone they'd found on a walk to the village last spring.

"Soppy, aren't you…" Jimmy whispered. His chest felt lighter, though, as he carefully replaced Thomas's treasures.

Eventually he exhausted the contents of the nightstand, the wardrobe, and the bookshelf, so he peeked under the bed next. There were two large boxes that contained winter clothes, but there was also a small, dusty wooden box that he almost didn't notice at first. It was half-shoved between the nightstand and the wall, like it had slipped out of a hiding place.

Jimmy smirked, wondering if he'd find an embarrassing collection pocket handkerchiefs or love poetry next.

But the box didn't contain handkerchiefs or poetry. Instead, Jimmy found a small stack of… photographs.

Nude, erotic, photographs, some of them scribbled on in French.

Jimmy's heart kicked in his chest. He'd seen his fair share of dirty pictures, of course, but those had always been of women, pushed on him by his mates at school or his fellow soldiers in the trenches. Jimmy had never seen pictures like these of men, and certainly not men with other men.

Slowly he went through the photos, staring especially hard at the photographs with two men in them. Most of the images featured good-looking blokes simply posing in various states of undress, but others were shockingly explicit. There were men with their mouths on each other's cocks, men sodomizing each other, men with their tongues in places Jimmy had never thought to try… One picture in particular stood out to Jimmy: in the photo, a naked man had his wrists bound together over his head while another man pleasured him down there with his mouth, his cock straining and his head tilted back in what looked like extreme pleasure.

Jimmy's whole body felt hot, and his cock was hard. Very distantly it occurred to him that, though he'd been making love with a man for months now, he'd never actually seen what two men together looked like, or known what all was possible between them. It was… strange. Perhaps, a little frightening… but mostly very arousing.

But he was just as much troubled as aroused. Those men had been doing things that he and Thomas had never done. Did that mean Thomas didn't want to do those things with him? If so, why not? He loved Jimmy, and he wanted him, so why not…? Did he think Jimmy wouldn't like doing these sorts of things?

Ah, he was probably afraid Jimmy would be frightened away if he suggested such things. He was always so very careful with Jimmy, the idiot. If he only knew what thoughts Jimmy had every moment of the day—

Jimmy swallowed hard and went back to staring at the photos. As he shuffled through them a second, then a third time, Jimmy belatedly realized what Thomas must have used the photos for. Immediately he was caught somewhere between lust, embarrassment, and jealousy.

Lust easily won out as he pictured Thomas having a wank. Jimmy loved watching Thomas touch himself. No sight was more arousing, in his opinion, than Thomas Barrow when he was undone and helpless like that, his beautiful hands wrapped around his beautiful cock…

Before they'd become lovers Thomas must have touched himself a lot when he was alone, Jimmy mused. Almost certainly he must have thought of Jimmy while he did it, too, and not always these blokes in the photos or memories of his ex-lovers. He must have fantasized about Jimmy, must have…ohhhh. Jimmy closed his eyes, his already burning skin flushing hot as a furnace. What if Thomas had looked at the photos and imagined Jimmy and himself doing all those unspeakable things, together…? What if he'd come to the thought of the two of them locked together like that, or with their tongues in those places, hands bound and totally at the other's mercy?

Jimmy's hard cock twitched in his pants. Pressing a hand to himself, he wondered whether he was really going to do that…right here, in Thomas's bed, without him even there…? Wasn't that wrong somehow?

He gazed down at the top photo, saw the man's muscles straining against his bonds while the second man licked his arse. He imagined he and Thomas in their place, and felt shaky and weak with want.

Yes.

Yes he was damn well going to.

Thomas returned to Downton Saturday afternoon, and when he saw Jimmy at last it was difficult not to embrace him at once. Instead he greeted everyone as normally as he could and forced himself to exchange pleasantries and 'how-was-London's' with Daisy and Mrs. Hughes. All he wanted to do was get on with the day so it could pass more quickly. As soon as they released him from conversation he hurried upstairs to unpack and have a quick smoke before he got back to work.

He couldn't wait for night to fall. He needed Jimmy all to himself—he felt as starved for his love as if it had been a year, and not only six days. It was probably pathetic or stupid that he should miss Jimmy so much, but Thomas didn't care. He was too in love to care about such things.

He'd just opened his valise on the bed when he heard his door click open and shut behind him.

Before he could turn around and tut-tut at Jimmy—though he was secretly pleased— Jimmy looped his arms around Thomas's waist and pressed his forehead into his back. He heaved a deep sigh as if he'd been in pain and had only now got relief. Thomas smiled and leaned back into Jimmy's embrace. They stood like that in silence for a long, sweet moment, just breathing.

Then Jimmy muttered resentfully, "Sod Mr. Bates," and Thomas snorted. He turned in Jimmy's arms and took his face in his hands, kissing his lips very softly. Jimmy looked chagrined at himself but pleased by the kiss, and Thomas couldn't help but kiss him a second time, lingering a little longer than before.

"Darling boy…"

Jimmy gripped Thomas's lapels and pulled him closer, his mouth hot and far too hungry for this early in the day. Thomas kissed him back despite himself, wishing they could sink down into bed right now, but he forced himself to pull away before all good sense was lost.

"We can't, not now," he reminded Jimmy, gently. Jimmy was young and new to love, so he still had trouble with control sometimes; it was always a wrench to remind him of reality. But Jimmy was certainly learning. Thomas watched him compose himself, stepping back and smoothing his rumpled waistcoat with unsteady hands.

"Christ," Jimmy swore, clearing his throat. "Dammit. I know. I've… I'm better, now."

Thomas grinned, smug in spite of himself. "Missed me, did you?"

"It weren't even a week," Jimmy sniffed.

"But you did," Thomas insisted.

Jimmy stared at him, his mouth unable to decide what sort of expression to make.

Finally he said, "Yes, but you missed me too you arse, don't act like it were all me—" and Thomas couldn't help but take his hands and kiss them.

"I did miss you, too," he admitted. "Terribly. Could barely sleep without you."

He kissed Jimmy's hands twice more—he had such lovely musician's fingers—and released them, ignoring Jimmy's mutterings about how he was a soppy old man. "Go on then, before someone wonders where you've got to."

Jimmy nodded and shuffled out the door, reluctantly. Thomas felt giddy as a schoolboy as he finished unpacking.

The rest of the day passed far too slowly for Thomas's liking. It was made better (and worse) by the fact that he could talk to Jimmy in the servant's hall or the kitchens—tell him all about his trip— but not intimately, not as he would if they were alone. Since they'd begun their love affair he'd almost become accustomed to waiting for nightfall to remove all barriers between them, but the near-week long separation of London had made it painfully difficult once again.

And Jimmy seemed to be finding the wait just as tiresome as he did. He kept flushing at odd moments, staring off into space, and he fidgeted with his tie and collar so much that Anna asked him if he were feeling alright.

He's just passionate, is all, Thomas thought, trying hard to contain his delight. He still wasn't sure how he'd gotten so lucky, that Jimmy should return his love so ardently. Sometimes the thought of all he had to lose now terrified him—and he wasn't sure he'd ever be used to being happy—but today he felt nothing could dampen his good spirits.

Eventually the sun set, and people began to trickle up to bed one by one.

Thomas bathed early and forced himself to sit down on the bed when he was done, determined not to pace the floor in anticipation of Jimmy's arrival. That's when he noticed someone had been in his room since he'd been gone. There was a book of sheet music and an old penny dreadful on the nightstand, as well as a few magazines half-shoved under the bed. One of his drawers was slightly open, too.

Jimmy must have been coming in here and been the one to make such a mess… likely he'd snooped into Thomas's things while he was at it; it seemed like something he would do. Well, he'd just have to get revenge on Jimmy for that, wouldn't he. Thomas smirked and leaned back against the pillows, lighting a cigarette.

Jimmy forced himself to wait the agreed upon amount of time before sneaking into Thomas's room.

He had one of his white ties wrapped around his wrist and hidden under his sleeve. He wasn't sure he'd actually use it tonight, but he wanted it there just in case. He wanted to do everything he'd seen in Thomas's erotic pictures—only he still couldn't decide what he wanted first, or what he wanted most… because he wanted all of it. Thomas didn't need to coddle him anymore; he wasn't afraid, and if he only knew how Jimmy felt about him he wouldn't feel obligated to hold back, either.

Because I want him in every way, Jimmy thought with a shiver. Nerves and anticipation had him practically vibrating off the floor, and he was getting hard already. He wasn't sure if he was even capable of having a real conversation now but he was bloody well going to try.

Jimmy steeled himself and opened Thomas's door, closing it behind him as quietly as he could.

"Jimmy," Thomas said in greeting, smiling, and Jimmy felt himself blush just at the sound of his name. He was hopeless tonight, he realized; best stop fighting it.

Without pretense he joined Thomas on the bed and wrapped his arms around his middle, pressing his face into Thomas's belly so he could breathe in his scent. Being close to him again felt so good, like a vital piece of him had been missing and was now returned to him. Thomas returned the embrace and ran his gloved hand up and down Jimmy's back, his other hand finding Jimmy's and holding it close.

For a good while neither of them spoke. If this were any other night Jimmy would be chattering away about this or that, or Thomas would be relating some story or other with a smirk around his cigarette, but tonight words seemed… too soon, or too fragile under the weight of what missing each other had been like.

You've done me in, Jimmy thought at Thomas. No hope left for me and I don't even care.

Thomas began to stroke Jimmy's hair in the quiet, curling the loose strands around his fingers. "Your heart's pounding like a brass band," he observed, softly.

Jimmy let out a breath. It was true: his heart was beating hard, and he was getting hard, because he loved Thomas desperately and wanted him just as much. And tonight he was going to show him.

Suddenly he knew exactly what he was going to do.

"I slept in your room while you were gone," Jimmy mumbled.

Thomas tried to keep the glee out of his voice. "…That so?"

"And I went through all your things. I wasn't trying to—I were just curious."

Thomas hadn't expected him to confess to that bit; he'd rather been looking forward to teasing it out of him, actually. Ah, well, couldn't have everything, he supposed.

"That wasn't nice," Thomas mused. With anyone else he would've been furious at the violation of his privacy, but with Jimmy... he didn't even mind, not really. He felt as if he'd already given Jimmy himself; any material items seemed paltry gifts by comparison. Besides, what did he have to hide in his nightstand or wardrobe? Clothes? His tin of buttons? Well, there were those little mementoes of Jimmy he kept, but Jimmy already thought him a ridiculous soppy fool so he didn't think such a discovery would matter beyond a bit of teasing—and they teased each other anyway.

"And I found…" Jimmy sat up and pulled away, his cheeks red. Without looking at Thomas he reached down and pulled something out from behind the nightstand. It was —

Thomas jerked in shock, staring in horror as Jimmy showed him the box of nude photographs. He'd almost forgotten they existed; before he and Jimmy had been together, he'd used them frequently and just as frequently hid them in various locations around his room, just in case anyone found them. He'd gotten the first ones years and years ago, from Philip, and had since built up a tidy collection for himself. Of course he'd dreaded anyone finding them but he never thought this would be how it would happen.

Now Jimmy was likely frightened, or disgusted— he'd been so innocent and Thomas had tried not so hard not to scare him with too much—

"I found these," Jimmy said in a rush. "And, uh, I—I quite like them."

…What?

Jimmy cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "I… thought we might try—I mean, I'd like to—like the men in the pictures. But only if you…" His voice lost steam, and faltered to a stop. His face was twisted up in a new expression of frustration and embarrassment and desire, one Thomas had never seen before.

So… Jimmy had snooped through his things, found the pictures, and had been aroused by them…? Now he wanted to do something new with Thomas, some act from the photos…

Thomas felt an electric chill sweep over his body from head to toe, a flush to match Jimmy's rising to his skin. He had been so careful with Jimmy all this time—had worked hard not to frighten him since he had been so wholly inexperienced with sex, and sex with men. Thomas had kissed and touched him, had used his hands and his mouth on Jimmy's cock, had pushed their bodies together for release—but he hadn't gone any farther than that. He'd had vague plans of introducing Jimmy slowly to more… involved and creative activities, but he'd been so happy with their love that he'd put it off, feeling it silly to push for more when he already had everything he wanted.

But he'd underestimated Jimmy. Well… time to remedy that, he supposed.

"Sounds wonderful," Thomas agreed. He desperately wanted to know what exactly Jimmy had seen that he wanted to try, but he had to ask something else first—it was too good to let pass by. Only he had to touch him, now.

Thomas pulled Jimmy into a tender kiss, lightly running his fingers down the vulnerable throat with its too-rapid pulse. He deepened the kiss after a moment, slowly caressing Jimmy's tongue with his own. Just as slowly he let his hand trail down to cup Jimmy's cock through his pajamas, feeling it already half-hard stiffen further under his touch. Jimmy flinched against his lips, his breath catching.

"Did you do this," Thomas asked softly, massaging a little harder with his palm. "Right here, in this bed, when I weren't here?"

Jimmy nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. Thomas wanted to groan at the thought, at the image his imagination presented to him, but he held it back.

"…How many times?"

Jimmy's breath stuttered and he swore softly into Thomas's mouth, but Thomas could feel the tension leaving his body with every confession, and every gentle press of his hand.

"Everynight… sometimes more than once."

Thomas breathed in deep and pulled away. He had to calm himself down, now, if he wanted to give Jimmy what he wanted. Jimmy's perfect voice could do him in at the best of times—he could say the most innocuous thing, he could say "Thomas, how do you take your tea?" and Thomas could be half-hard in his trousers—listening to him say anything like this, how he'd touched himself in Thomas's bed, and Thomas could hardly bear it.

"Show me?" Thomas asked, his own voice rough. Carefully he shifted to the side to give them both room to breathe, and to see the pictures between them. They'd likely need to do a lot of talking before they actually tried—

But Jimmy didn't open the box to show Thomas what he wanted. Instead he shuddered, his golden hair falling to hide his eyes, and he turned his body to lay on his back on the bed. Thomas watched in astonishment as he unbuttoned his shirt with unsteady fingers and revealed his bare chest. With only a brief hesitation, Jimmy slowly pulled his pajamas down and over his swollen cock and wrapped his hand around it.

Thomas's prick throbbed at the sight, but he realized belatedly that Jimmy had misunderstood his words. He'd said "show me," meaning show me the pictures of what you want to try, not show me how you touched yourself when I weren't here. This was another thing they hadn't done before—Thomas had touched himself for Jimmy to watch but he'd never asked for the reverse, though he had seen Jimmy stroke his own cock briefly when they were already touching.

But… Jimmy seemed to be enjoying it.

His darling love was so strangely timid at times, so quick to deflect emotional words or hide himself in particularly exposed sexual situations that Thomas had assumed any performance like this would profoundly embarrass him—but clearly, he had been wrong about that, too. Jimmy had his eyes closed again but his hand was already gripping tighter, moving faster—Thomas had never seen anything so erotic, or so gorgeous as Jimmy Kent like this, his head tilted back and his face tight with pleasure.

"That's…" Thomas could barely speak. "That's good, Jimmy, that's perfect—"

Jimmy opened his eyes and focused on Thomas's face, shuddering up into his fist.

"But what is it you wanted to do?" Thomas asked, desperately. He wanted to watch Jimmy come but he wanted to touch him, too, to do whatever it was he wanted to try.

Jimmy groaned and rolled to the side, his hand stopping its motion but not letting go. "All of it," he gasped. "But first I want— t-to have you at my mercy."

Thomas felt dizzy, his hard cock jumping under his clothes. He didn't know what Jimmy meant by having you at my mercy, but he didn't care. Anything Jimmy wanted he could have.

"Yes," Thomas said. "Whatever you want."

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Thomas watched Jimmy attempt to regain some measure of control, his fingers letting go of his erection one by one as he bit his plush bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Finally he took a deep breath and sat up, a look of steely determination coming into his face.

"I'm not afraid of doing any of those things in your pictures," he told Thomas, very directly. "And I know you never asked because you think I'd—I'd run off or something."

Thomas blinked at him.

"But that's complete bollocks," Jimmy continued fiercely. "If I didn't want something I'd say it—"

That's certainly true, Thomas realized blankly.

"And anyway I love you," Jimmy finished, flushing red. "If you only knew how I—what I think about all the bloody time, you wouldn't be so damn careful with me. I may not be experienced like you but I want you just as much as you want me."

Jimmy's speech rendered Thomas mute. So he only watched, eyes wide, as Jimmy pulled up the sleeve of his unbuttoned shirt and revealed… his tie, wrapped around his wrist.

But what was that—oh. Ohhhh. Thomas remembered that particular photo with perfect clarity, and what Jimmy likely wanted to do because of it, and it made him lightheaded.

"Is this… alright?" Jimmy asked tentatively, all his ferocity suddenly gone.

Thomas nodded dumbly.

"Good," Jimmy breathed. Despite the relative composure of his voice Thomas could see his whole body trembling. "Lay… lay back, then."

Thomas did as he was bid, his heart hammering against his ribs. Jimmy moved off the bed and discarded his clothes clumsily, only keeping the tie clutched in his fist.

"Let's just loop these, here," Jimmy said, still with that fragile air of authority that made Thomas sick with desire. "And you… you wrap your hands around them like this—"

Jimmy had given this a lot of thought, Thomas realized. He wasn't tying Thomas to the bed frame—there was too much risk he'd hurt Thomas accidentally or damage the tie—so he threaded the cloth through the brass bars and had Thomas wind his fists around the ends, creating the illusion of bondage. Thomas's cock throbbed and dripped as soon as he felt the cloth tighten around his hands. He'd never known such a thing would be so arousing to him, but it was.

"Is this only to prove something to me?" he asked, suddenly worried. He had to know before he let this go on.

But Jimmy shook his head. "No," he paused, sucking in a breath. "I just—I just want you like this."

Thomas shut his eyes, thanking every deity he could name.

When he opened them a few moments later he found Jimmy simply standing by the bed, staring at him with his lips parted. Thomas wasn't even unclothed yet, but Jimmy was looking at him like he was. Somehow it was unbearably intimate and Thomas found himself breaking out in a sweat under his gaze.

Finally Jimmy bent forward and pushed Thomas's white shirt up under his arms, baring his chest and stomach. Thomas watched his blue eyes dilate as they moved over him, and he twitched helplessly when Jimmy's hands followed the path his eyes had taken, running his fingers through the hair on his chest. When Jimmy's thumbs found his erect nipples he made a little sound, and one of Jimmy's hands flew down to grip himself in reaction.

This won't take long at all, Thomas thought, shuddering.

As if reading his mind Jimmy jerked Thomas's pajamas off and tossed them to the floor, then he climbed onto the bed between Thomas's spread legs. Thomas couldn't think. What was in those pictures, again? What was Jimmy wanting to do?

"Thomas," Jimmy said hoarsely. "I've never… so tell me if I do it wrong. Tell me if you don't like it."

Again Thomas nodded, barely hearing him. He never wanted to take his eyes off Jimmy like this. Usually in their encounters he was the one in control, the one to read signals and act accordingly. Always he pleasured Jimmy before himself. But now Jimmy was in his place, had Thomas bound and at his mercy in a way Thomas had never done with him.

Licking his lips, Jimmy took Thomas's ankles and pushed them up and forward. Surely he wasn't going to…? But Jimmy's face had gone slack with want, his eyes dark and heavy and his breathing deliberately deep, and Thomas's cock dripped just at the suggestion of it. He'd done it before, with Philip, but he'd always been the one giving it, never receiving. Surely inexperienced Jimmy wouldn't be brave enough to do such a shocking thing on his own power—

Jimmy surprised Thomas by leaning up and kissing his mouth. He sucked on Thomas's tongue, making Thomas's prick pulse, then he pulled away to kiss his neck and chest. He licked and sucked on his nipples, swirling his hot tongue around them and pulling them up with his mouth, using his teeth until it bordered on pain. Thomas whimpered, arching his back for more, his thoughts whiting out completely when he felt Jimmy's hand on his cock.

"This is how you do it to me," Jimmy groaned in his ear, and some still-conscious part of Thomas recognized his own teachings in the way Jimmy touched him. "I almost die..."

Mindlessly Thomas agreed, jerking his hips up into Jimmy's hand. He was on the edge suddenly, straining against his bonds in desperation—but Jimmy let go.

"Ah, Jimmy, please—"

Thomas felt Jimmy's hands on his ankles again, pushing them up towards his body even further than before, leaving him terribly exposed—and it came back to him, what Jimmy was going to do— and he could almost hear Jimmy's thoughts, hear him think but you haven't done this to me yet, and he cried out raggedly at the first brush of Jimmy's mouth on his hole.

Jimmy breathed hotly against him, kissing him gently there as if testing his response, then Thomas felt his wet tongue and all his muscles strained against the tie in his hands, his cock kicking painfully against his belly as he struggled not to come. Jimmy's tongue lapped at him again, his fingers spreading him wider to bare him completely, and another chilling wave of heat broke over him, his whole body straining not to thrash away from Jimmy's perfect mouth.

He could hear someone in the room moaning helplessly, and knew it was him.

"Ugh Thomas, it's good," Jimmy gasped.

Then Jimmy's tongue delved deeper, pushing in, and Thomas cried at that, rolling his hips up frantically over and over until Jimmy mercifully took his cock in hand and pulled, hard, his tongue spearing him deeply as he did it.

Thomas came in shattering bursts, his body hungrily clutching Jimmy's tongue as his prick pulsed and spilled in his hand. When it was finally over he fell back against the pillows, his body soaked with come and sweat. The only thought left in his mind was how much he wanted Jimmy to fuck him even now, when he was limp with repletion and unable to breathe.

Distantly Thomas felt Jimmy push up between his legs, frantically thrusting his body through the wetness on his belly until he, too, came with a cry and fell weakly against him.

Thomas only knew he'd fallen unconscious when he came out of it some time later, feeling fingers unwinding the bonds from around his aching hands.

"Jimmy…" he said, and even he could hear the new awe in his voice.

Jimmy smiled down at him, so sweetly it was absurdly incongruous with the filthy acts that mouth had recently performed. If Thomas had the energy he would have laughed for a year.

"That was alright, then?" Jimmy asked, and oh, there it was, the smugness. Well, he certainly had a right to be, Thomas conceded sleepily.

"You're a natural, you are," Thomas told him, trying to rub the feeling back into his numb fingers. "I don't know how you… did that."

Jimmy dropped his eyes, and there was that other side of him, the one that blushed. "You were gone a long time," he said. "All I could do with meself was think about it and look at your indecent photographs every night."

In other words, Thomas thought fondly, you studied them like a student for an exam. Well done, top marks to Jimmy Kent.

Thomas grinned like someone drunk—and he was, in a way. "Have to go away more often, then,"

Jimmy snorted. "No, you won't. Just say you have a bloody cold too next time."

Thomas sat up slowly, minding the way his whole body felt weak and faintly sore, so he could pull off his bunched up shirt. Jimmy had already cleaned the mess off his skin, he noticed—how considerate of him. Again Thomas smiled stupidly at Jimmy and crawled under the blankets. He was so deliciously tired, now, he couldn't wait to go back to sleep.

Jimmy turned out the light and followed him under the sheets, tucking himself against Thomas's back with a contented sigh.

Just as Thomas was slipping sweetly into dreams he heard Jimmy whisper, "Tomorrow you'll do that to me. Then we'll do the all the rest of it, and everything we can think of, too."

Thomas laughed softly, half-asleep already. "Whatever you say, darling."