Thomas made his way into Jimmy's room at around two in the morning, having already slept a couple of hours away. When he entered, the room was dark aside from a bit of moonlight. He contemplated leaving, letting Jimmy sleep, but he decided it against it shortly after it had come to mind. He reached for the lamp and when its light illuminated the bed, it revealed Jimmy half-sitting, propped by his pillow, with his alarm clock on his lap.
"What are you doing?"
"I convinced myself to wake up, but I hadn't convinced myself to move."
"Here I thought you were cuddling a clock in my stead."
Jimmy stroked the clock's bells lovingly before he set it on the bedside table. "Your turn, I guess," he sighed.
Thomas made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge. From this new vantage point, he saw that the post-card was propped against the washbasin and he could feel himself grin stupidly. He slid his hand under Jimmy's shirt and curled it around his hipbone. He inclined his head towards the post-card. "You shouldn't keep that there."
"I won't. But while I'm in here, it can be where I bloody like."
They met mid-way for a kiss, which Thomas shortly broke away from with a laugh. "And you get after me for being soppy," he teased. He slid his hand farther up Jimmy's shirt, aligning his fingers with the grooves in the ribs beneath.
"You'd always be soppy if I didn't put a stop to it." Jimmy interlaced his fingers with those on Thomas's free hand. He looked at it for a moment and frowned slightly. "It makes me nervous."
"Why?" Jimmy saw a shadow of hurt in Thomas's eyes, even in the dull light. He extricated his fingers and stroked them into Thomas's still-slick hair in order to pull him down for another kiss, deeper this time by way of apology. Jimmy moved as far over as he could to allow Thomas some space to lie next to him.
Thomas sank into the spot and their lips brushed on another again. Jimmy rested his head flat against the bed and stared up at Thomas, whose scalp he was tracing small circles against. "You love me so much."
"I know," Thomas replied, traces of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. He pulled himself closer still and rested his forehead against Jimmy's temple.
"I just - What if I get to need that and it ends badly?"
Jimmy turned his head and met Thomas's eyes. "It may end badly, or well, or not at all. But I don't think that will happen for a long while. Unless you have plans I don't know about." Jimmy kissed near the outer corner of his eye, on the cheekbone. "If you get too caught up in the end of this, you'll never enjoy it."
"That's why I wanted that picture done." It had burst forth; if Jimmy hadn't said it immediately he doubted he ever would have. "If this gets spoiled, I wouldn't have anything real from it. I could have dreamt it up."
That was quite enough to make Thomas's heart ache. When he spoke it was with a voice which had a shiver running through it, only able to bear an apology. He manoeuvred onto his back and pulled Jimmy half on top of him.
"I do love you," Jimmy said quietly. He shifted himself up so that their heads were aligned. "That's real enough for now, isn't it?"
"That's real for as long as you think it is."
Jimmy kissed him again. "I'm still glad for the picture," he said against Thomas's mouth.
"Good."
Their tongues ghosted against one another and their hands slid against their partner's scalp, pulling themselves together. Touching never seemed enough - they wanted to hold one another close for long enough that their ribs ached and intertwined. Jimmy tugged Thomas's lower lip with his teeth and placed an excruciatingly soft kiss on the divets made in the flesh.
Jimmy sat up and straddled Thomas's hips, drinking in the sight of him: kiss-bruised, irises blackened with lust, expression purely love. Currents directed themselves to his heart and cock in equal measure. Jimmy laughed unsteadily. "This is one of those times when that camera would be nice."
"It's an idea."
"It's a terrible idea," Jimmy scoffed. "Don't agree with everything I say. You're meant to be the level-headed one."
"I'd agree to most things if you asked me now. I'll keep that in mind, though."
Jimmy gave a slightly mischevious smile. "Will you use your mouth?"
"I'd do that if you asked while we served dinner," Thomas answered with a laugh. He palmed Jimmy's cock through his pyjamas, trailed his fingertips lightly along its length. Jimmy's eyes shut and he dropped his head to his chest. "You'll have to move off me," Thomas said, not stopping his ministrations.
"Yes," he agreed, but only just rocked his hips against Thomas's fingers.
"Lay down," Thomas said, moving his hand to Jimmy's stomach. Jimmy didn't move, only stared at him hazily through his lashes. "I want to taste you." Jimmy reached out and ran his thumb along Thomas's lips, through which his tongue met the offered skin.
Jimmy pressed himself flush against Thomas and they lost time in a deep kiss before Thomas remembered his aim. He gingerly rolled the two of them over so that he was on top. Stopping his trajectory for a moment, he pulled the neckline of Jimmy's undershirt down, biting and sucking at the collarbone until it speckled red under his mouth. He pushed the bottom of the shirt up and ran an appreciative hand over Jimmy's torso.
Little easy sighs trickled from Jimmy's throat at the interplay between lips and tongue and teeth on his skin as Thomas slipped down his body. Thomas pulled Jimmy's hips to the side so his legs dropped off of the bed and he sunk to his knees between them.
He undid the tie of the pyjama bottoms and removed them, tossing them onto the floor behind him. Thomas ran his fingers along the inside of Jimmy's thighs and he watched as Jimmy's hands flexed desperately at his sides.
"God, you're gorgeous," he murmured reflexively, watching Jimmy's cock pulse with his heartbeat. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Jimmy's low back and pulled him closer.
He leaned his chest against Jimmy's legs so he couldn't buck his hips. He took most of Jimmy's cock in his mouth without preamble and Jimmy tried to spread his legs further apart and found them trapped. He wound his fingers tightly around Thomas's hair and tried to guide him, but Thomas was stronger and kept himself at his own pace.
Jimmy moved one of his hands to wrap around himself and try to make up for the lack of purchase given his lower body by desperate tugs, occasionally knocking against Thomas's mouth. Thomas laughed and Jimmy could feel the hum and the twisting of Thomas's tongue against his prick. "Christ. Please."
Thomas dug his nails into Jimmy's back and took him in as deeply as possible. Jimmy arched and pulled Thomas's hair until it turned from pleasurable into painful. "Do that again, please, please," he begged, voice cracking. Thomas repeated the action, moaning around his cock when Jimmy's gasps turned into quiet sobs. Jimmy ran his hand desperately through Thomas's hair and made to grip it again when Thomas reached for his arms and held them down against his stomach.
He felt as though his self was beginning to pool in the throbbing of his erection; all he could feel was Thomas's mouth, could only see pretty red lips encircling him. "Fuck, you're lovely like this," he whispered. Thomas nodded slightly and met his gaze. It was that which did him in - something about the way Thomas would look at him always seemed to undo him, to push him over any precipice. He came, pressing his head into the bed until it hurt, and Thomas kept his mouth around him until the tremors of aftershocks stilled.
Thomas pulled his head away and released Jimmy's arms from his grasp. Jimmy sat up and tilted Thomas's face upward and kissed him gratefully, tasting himself against smoke. He lead Thomas up and over him, enjoying the comfort of his weight.
"You're never that polite during the day," Thomas said against Jimmy's cheek.
"You're never that nice during the day. You should work on that, Mr Barrow."
Jimmy pushed Thomas's pyjamas down to his thighs and felt the heat of his bare skin. He put his foot on the crotch of the trousers and kicked them off entirely.
Thomas kissed his where Jimmy's hairline began, just behind his ear, and received a sighed in return. Jimmy rolled his hips, sliding Thomas's cock against his thighs.
"Should I take you in the wine cellar? Or the servery?" Thomas whispered raggedly into his ear.
"Servery. Over the desk."'
Jimmy wrapped a hand around Thomas's length, thumb fixedly stroking across the head and slicking its length with fluid that dripped over his hand and belly. Thomas spat into his hand and ran it between Jimmy's thighs before replacing it with his cock.
"Have you been planning that?" Thomas asked as he rocked into the friction and heat surrounding him. For a moment, Jimmy didn't realise what he'd meant by the question, and so captured his mouth for a rough kiss. When it dawned on him, he gasped away from Thomas's lips and nodded.
"We'd have to keep quiet, because," Jimmy briefly lost his breath to the increasing pace of Thomas's movements, which his own matched, "there would be people outside. But you'd - you'd make me beg for you."
Thomas hummed his agreement into Jimmy's shoulder.
"Thomas, I want you so much," he said into the black mess of Thomas's hair. "Always, always."
Jimmy felt Thomas's hands take hold of him by the hips and bring the two of them together with more violence than Jimmy had been supplying. Thomas came, biting into Jimmy's skin to stifle any sound. He remained until his breathing stilled, then kissed the crenulation at Jimmy's shoulder as he turned himself onto his side, on the bed.
Jimmy stood and made his way to the table bearing the washbasin. He picked up the post-card and handed it to Thomas."Hold that for a minute."
Thomas rested its edge on his sternum and looked at it for a little longer than he had at the fair. They looked absurd and it sent a jolt of happiness through him to see it. Neither of them were easy men, yet they provoked it in one another - and Jimmy had had the good sense and the photographer the good fortune of capturing a moment that, for the two of them, spelled nothing but love. Love that had now been documented and forced into history.
"Do you know the song Come Take a Trip in My Air Ship?"
Jimmy laughed. "What made you think of that?"
"No one to watch while we're kissing," he began, just slightly more sing-song than his usual voice, "no one to see while we spoon, come take a trip in my air ship and we'll visit the man in the moon."
"Ah," he replied, grinning. "You're dippy."
Once Thomas had gotten up to wash, Jimmy set the post-card on his pillow and pulled the duvet off of the bed, throwing it over the pile of pyjamas on the floor. He flopped sideways onto the bed. "I'm spent."
"I can't imagine why. You did a lot of laying there."
Jimmy had the good sense to look offended, but couldn't keep the smile from creeping over his face. "All the better for your wicked ways. And I work awfully hard. You've forgotten the struggle, Mr Barrow."
Thomas shook his head disparagingly and kissed Jimmy's forehead. "Unlikely." He returned the post-card to its temporary home at the basin and turned off the lamp.
After making Jimmy re-position himself lengthwise, Thomas lay beside him. Jimmy sank into his embrace, arm draped over his chest.
"I am glad you made us get that photo," Thomas said.
"I know. I didn't think you'd put up that much of a fight, but I knew you'd like it once it was done. You're a sentimental sort."
"That sounds better than soppy."
"You're still soppy," Jimmy laughed.
For a long while after, they let themselves drift on a silence sweeter than words, pinning the reality of the night to their memories. Jimmy's fingers sometimes brushed against Thomas's ribs and Thomas sometimes ran a hand down Jimmy's spine, each gathering up the feelings of bone and skin for thoughts years on. Their heartbeats matched; they could feel both expanding and contracting at different places where their bodies met, as though their hearts worked to the same end for a shared body.
They lay awash, enwombed, in the flow of their blood and the moonlight.
t.
