My body is a traitor to my mind, Jimmy thought- the sentence pounded through his skull, a grim refrain. My body is a traitor to my mind. My body has betrayed me.
It was an unpleasant surprise after a quarter-century to discover that his own physical being- which Jimmy had always relied on, always trusted- was in some way separate from the rest of him- separate and frighteningly alien.
Jimmy turned round every ten paces, convinced that Thomas would slip up behind him, and beg him back to the secret ruins- and Jimmy's steps reflected this anxiety, pushing him towards the house at a clip that was just short of running. As he went Jimmy thought of every unappealing thing he could: his mother's funeral- the way it had felt when he had been ten and taken a tumble down the front steps of his parent's flat, snapping his collarbone with a sound like a branch breaking- a selection of his worst nights in the trenches, the nights when he'd been certain he was going to die-
But the memories were meaningless, remote- they were orchestrated riots in a theatre as opposed to divine madness- and Jimmy could not shake himself loose of madness; it gripped him like a fever. Under the full sunlight, on the lawns that skirted the house, Jimmy could feel sweat running off the tip of his nose and down the small of his back- but still he shivered at the sensations that moved through him, and pushed back the images that suggested themselves with as much force as he could muster.
No. Don't think of his mouth, Jimmy commanded himself, using his brain against the body he had once entrusted with everything. The feeling of his clothes against his skin agitated Jimmy to no end, and the gravel of the courtyard crunched unbearably loudly as he made his way briskly to the servants hall. He held his jacket over his arm and his arm draped loosely in front of him, to hide his- affliction- lest anyone was loitering in the common area- but the hall was empty. Jimmy passed through it without hearing so much as a suggestion of another person, and took the stairs as swiftly as he could.
In his room Jimmy shut the door and then leaned against it, pressing his forehead to the wood grain. "Stay collected, won't you," Jimmy muttered aloud. His voice sounded unsteady in his own ears. The door was wonderfully cool compared to the heat of his body, and he leaned more firmly against it, taking deep breaths, and imagined death by drowning, death by fire- but his imaginings were no more effective than his memories- they all began and ended with the press of Thomas's lips against his hand, so soft at first that he had needed to look, to make sure he was really being kissed-
"Uh. No," Jimmy said, and slammed his hands against the door, hard enough to make his palms sting. Then he turned, refusing to meet his own eyes in the vanity mirrors, and went to the washbasin. He washed his hands thoroughly over it, scrubbing them until his skin was pink and felt a touch raw, and then washed his face as well- and then his teeth, chasing away the taste of wine and oranges. In Jimmy's mind the image of Thomas's mouth around his fingers- and an echo of sensation- played over and over, and Jimmy pressed his hands to his temples, willing it to stop.
"That's enough," Jimmy said, tightly, and when that did not work he conjured up one of Thomas's poems from his memory, and tried to repeat it verbatim- "You fold, you bend, you- cover...cover me by thirds," Jimmy said, in an undertone. "You- you stifle me- no. Ah- you hold pockets of s-shadows in your mass-"
It didn't help- Thomas's words, poorly recalled or not, only made his presence more insistent- Jimmy felt, absurdly, as if Thomas were also in the room. Perhaps judging his sorry state.
Jimmy wanted nothing except to shed his unbearable clothing, and crawl into his bed. He wanted to lay between the cool sheets and press his hand- the hand that Thomas had kissed- against his own bare skin. Jimmy's body ached with unspent desire- and he needed to draw his curtains and lay in the darkness of his bedroom and think of what Thomas had done to him- the look on his face-
"No," Jimmy said- louder and more harshly than he had intended. He was not going to give in to it. I was much better off before, Jimmy thought- and he was swept through by a sudden surge of abject misery. The intensity of the emotion- perhaps compounded by his physical discomfort- or the wine he had drunk in poor judgement- made Jimmy feel ill. Still the thought persisted: I was much better off before. I can never un-know this.
The bed called out to Jimmy, but he stepped around it as if it were dangerous, and stood in front of his mirror, confronting himself. His mirror-self looked back, his eyes wide and unhappy.
"It doesn't matter," Jimmy said, firmly, pointing at his reflection as if in chastisement. "It doesn't matter," he said, again, letting his finger drop. "You just have to avoid thinking about it. And eventually it will go away." Infatuations could be as sudden as- as springtime-and as fleeting, and bouts of lust were bouts of lust, no more or less than any man had to contend with.
I can't stay in here, Jimmy thought, and reached behind his vanity, pulling out his blue book. He shrugged on his unfortunately rumpled jacket, taking a deep breath, and tucked the journal away in his pocket, safe from prying eyes.
Jimmy drank several cups of cold water and went outside again- keeping to the far side of the house. The worst thing that could happen would be for him to cross paths with Thomas. The thought of meeting Thomas's eyes was uncomfortable, the thought of speaking with him difficult, the thought of looking at his mouth- unbearable. Jimmy found a bench and occupied it briefly, his hands wanting for his deck of cards, for anything to get his mind off it- but, despite the awful heat, he felt compelled to rise again, and pace the grounds until the sun was dipping on the horizon.
You just have to put it away, and forget about it, Jimmy told himself- and when he noticed that the hour was growing late, he forced his tired legs to turn back towards the house.
Jimmy's sense of timing could not have been worse- when he opened the door to the hall everyone was just sitting down to supper, and he balked, caught by the sudden and very powerful urge to simply turn back around, and beat a hasty retreat with no word of explanation. Right, you start now, Jimmy thought, and gathered up every scrap of poise and resolve he currently possessed- and tried, very hard, not to look at Thomas, who was standing at the far side of the table.
Jimmy could feel Thomas's attention on him- it made his heart stutter in his chest, as though he were in very bad trouble indeed- and involuntarily he touched his jacket pocket, making sure that his journal was still there. Without a glance at Thomas, Jimmy made to cross the space and slip away- but then Carson appeared in the doorframe, cutting off Jimmy's route of escape.
"Excuse me," Carson said- and everybody who wasn't standing rose up, in a practiced motion- and Jimmy stayed rooted to the spot, waiting until Carson sat so that he could leave. But Carson did not sit- he remained standing, and cleared his throat, until he had everyone's rapt attention.
"As you all know, I am leaving on Monday," Carson said, with the assurance of someone who was used to being minded- "-for twelve weeks. During my absence, Mr. Barrow is in charge- and you are all to obey his orders implicitly in my stead. Is that understood?"
Carson's gaze traveled to everyone's faces amid nodding and affirmations- and to Jimmy it seemed that Carson's eyes lingered on his own for a moment, so Jimmy schooled his expression into perfect attentiveness, and nodded. "I will be here tomorrow, in an unofficial capacity," Carson went on, his eyebrows drawing down on his face- "but henceforth you will all take your orders from Mr. Barrow, and seek him out with any concerns. Starting immediately," Carson said, and pulled back his own chair- but he did not take a seat. Instead he gestured for Thomas to take it, and Thomas walked around the table- for a moment his head jerked, as if he would look over at Jimmy- but he did not- and then Thomas sat carefully. The movement called to Jimmy's mind the deliberate way that Thomas had lowered his body onto mossy earth. Don't think about that, Jimmy told himself, forcibly- and cast his eyes downwards, so that he would not have to look at the curve of Thomas's mouth. After a pause of uncertainty everyone else sat as well- led by Bates, who had obviously sussed out the test Carson was giving and how to pass it. Carson nodded, pleased by the staff's compliance- and, surveying the room one last time, he turned back towards his office. Very ceremonial, Jimmy thought- but in his mind there was no humor to be had.
"Mr. Carson?' Jimmy asked, as Carson exited the room- and Carson, without looking back at him, replied gruffly: "Whatever it is, James, you can address it to Mr. Barrow." With this dismissal, he disappeared.
Jimmy had only been about to say that he wasn't well and wanted to take his meal upstairs- nothing, really, a courtesy of information more than anything- but now he was on the spot. Everyone had heard them, and so Jimmy was forced to turn around, and face Thomas. Jimmy did not meet Thomas's eyes, nor did he look at any other part of Thomas's body- he spoke mainly to the floor, which did not return the kindness. "I-am-not-feeling-well-and-I-think-I'll-take-suppe r-in-my-room-if-that-is-quite-alright. Sir." Jimmy said. He did not think his tone sounded very courteous, but it could not be helped- it took all he had to grind the sentence out from behind his clenched teeth.
"Certainly it's fine. I'll have someone bring you up a plate," Thomas said immediately, and his tone was so blatantly kind and so obviously gentle that Jimmy wanted to grab him by his lapels and shove him out the nearest door. Don't speak that way to me in front of everybody, Jimmy thought- but he nodded curtly, and went to his room.
In his room Jimmy paced, and picked at his food- he was hungry, he thought- but everything was unappetizing- and his hands ached for the touch of his cards. Finally Jimmy sat at his desk, listening to people trickle upstairs, one by one- he counted them each, and opened his blue book to the first half- the soldier's half. The dead soldier's half. I can't think of anything less appealing, Jimmy decided- and flipped through the soldier's catalogue of misery, stopping on a letter that occupied half a page, next to a rough sketch of an uniformed man who held up binoculars as if he were examining the viewer.
Jimmy turned his attention to the letter- the words were written flush up against the drawing, so that they were a bit of a puzzle to decipher-
Today's view from the trenches offers an expanse of red-toned sky almost biblical in its foreboding. I find I am in a mood to repeat myself- so come along, Jack, and pretend you are once more a child- begging me charmingly to spin you a yarn- to keep you awake with frightful ghost stories. Now- did I ever tell you of the night- this was before you were born- when Mr. Olfott killed his wife and two daughters, and lit his land afire? He walked into the field while it burned, so the story goes, and went up in smoke with his crop. I remember being so young- and left alone in the house, while Father and Mother ran across the way with buckets of water, which I suppose must have boiled to nothing against the inferno- and then the police arrived, after ages- and Mother came back with tears in her eyes and held me to her breast, and whispered lullabies into my ear- to this day I think it is perhaps my first clear memory, that dark night lit by flames-
"God," Jimmy said, making a face at the page- and he flipped to the latter half of the journal. Don't read Thomas's words right now, Jimmy told himself- but he also told himself: It won't matter. You can get your mind off things- and maybe copy over a few more poems...
The last of the stragglers- Jimmy had kept count- came up the stairs, and he listened to see if it was Carson, or Thomas. It was invariably one of them who was the last- but Jimmy could not hear what went on in the hall particularly well through his own door- and he was not sure if it was Thomas who had finally retired. Regardless, he's in his bedroom now, Jimmy thought- and his stomach twisted at the thought, so that he had to lay his book down for a moment- and regain his composure. He tapped his left hand- the hand that Thomas had put his mouth all over- against the surface of the desk, and then, shaking his head, roughly grasped the journal. "Right," he said, and turned to a page near the end, reading the first thing he saw-
And the weight of your tread crushed the autumn like corpses
And took us to places with tenuous forces
Like stallions of night, in the evening, your coursers
brought the winter back- oh, those dangerous horses-
You asked "Is it falling?"- and I, with 'of courses'
Became a blithe spirit, conspired with dusk-
And underneath all this, the carpets, a husk
The leaves were a bounty of Persian and plush
And ballrooms were forests for the two of us.
In stories I told you, you loved me the more
And sheets of red fire blew off of the floor!
The ground underneath was a ground you abhor
I grounded you then, but you grounded me more
To bridge this fine distance is merely a chore
And leaves I leave with you, and, loving you more
I laid grim November at fair April's door
And without December, I kissed you once more-
Beside the poem Thomas had added notes: 'Used 'more' three times in last verse. Replace sixth line?'
-and then a series of lines:
'-And hands I lay on you, and you I adore
-In sleep I dream with you, and you I assure
-Lost without provisions, and you, Mon amour-'
But none of these alterations had made it into a final draft- Thomas had never copied the poem over.
"And without December, I kissed you once more," Jimmy said, very quietly, and shut the book. It had been a mistake to read anything Thomas had written- the cadence of his words beat a rhythm into Jimmy's head, making it impossible to focus.
I'll just go speak with him- Jimmy thought- and he had risen to his feet by the time his mind warned him of the traitorous machinations of his body, and Jimmy, his hands curled into fists, forced himself to sit again. He tapped his fingers on the desk in time with a song that played through his brain- drawing long, even breaths, as if he were preparing to go underwater- and the song became the borrowed tune he'd set to Thomas's words. The keep I shut in, thin and never cheap- fell into tatters, sowing what I reap-
"No," Jimmy said aloud, and stood once more, massaging his temples. He felt a strange tenderness in his body- of frustrated desire, of exertion- that made movement unbearable but also good, like sheets rubbing against bare skin. He took himself over to the vanity, and confronted his own reflection. Jimmy rarely had seen himself in such a state- his tangled hair and disheveled pyjamas belied the neatness required in his profession- but was his own face that seemed most alien to Jimmy- and he was swept through by a wave of unreality, so powerful that he felt dizzy. Is that really me? Is that really who I am, there in the glass? Jimmy thought- and brought his hand to his face, watching himself do it. Graspingly he tried to make the truth of his own existence feel less surreal- but then the feeling passed- and he was Jimmy again, just as he'd always been.
You're alright, you're fine, he thought to himself- and realized he had involuntarily reached out to the mirrors. He drew his hand back, disgusted with the maudlin theatricality of the gesture, and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"Yes. I'll speak with him," Jimmy said. Just for a moment, and then- and then I can sleep-
Yes. That was the only thing for it- the only thing to put his mind at ease. No, Jimmy thought, putting his book behind the vanity- this is a terrible idea. You don't need to talk about it, for God's sake- you need to forget about it.
Jimmy pulled on his dressing gown, which was difficult, in the heat- and tied it shut- and took a deep breath. Don't touch him. Don't let him touch you. Tell him it will never happen again.
Jimmy nodded his head, in affirmation of his own resolve- and then he opened his door and crossed the hall. He did not knock politely on Thomas's door- to knock would have announced his intent- and anyways, the hour had grown late- and so Jimmy pushed into Thomas's room, and shut the door.
Thomas was washing up, and the first thing Jimmy saw were the muscles of his bruised, unclothed back- and then Thomas whirled round. Jimmy did not look at Thomas's chest, which was bare above his pyjama pants- he looked only at Thomas's face, which showed surprise.
"Good evening," Jimmy said. This was a bad idea. Don't get close to him. Jimmy kept his distance, leaning against the wall next to the door, and Thomas, his brow furrowed, put the washcloth down. "Good evening," Thomas said carefully, and took a step closer.
"Stay over there," Jimmy said immediately. He could feel the wall against his back- it felt like support but it also felt like a trap- and Jimmy squared his shoulders, making himself stand as upright as he could.
"Alright," Thomas said, halting in his tracks.
"Fine," Jimmy said. For a minute neither of them spoke- but that wouldn't work, either, because the silence was alive with things between them, and Jimmy cleared his throat, needing the distraction of words. "You must be enthralled," Jimmy said, after a moment. By Jimmy's sides, his hands were shaking, and Jimmy rubbed the back of his own neck, just for something to do.
Now Thomas looked truly worried indeed- and Jimmy realized that there were many ways his words could have been interpreted. Thomas started to say something- but Jimmy spoke over him- "I mean about being master of the realm," Jimmy elaborated- and Thomas shut his mouth- and then, after a moment, smiled ever so slightly- and Jimmy, who had made the mistake of looking directly at Thomas's mouth, felt his insides clench. "Well..." Thomas said, drawing out the word. His tone was an answer in itself. Jimmy nodded, tightly.
"Downstairs, anyways," Thomas added. Jimmy avoided looking at Thomas's mouth by directing his attention downwards- he was confronted by Thomas's abdomen- and he looked at the ugly bruises that marred the pale skin of it, here and there- dark plum inkblots that edged into delicate blues.
That secret wound you carry, Jimmy thought, recalling a line from the poem Thomas had written about his mother's earrings- and his attention wandered further down, to where Thomas's bruises disappeared, covered by fabric. There was something insultingly masculine about Thomas's body- it was too masculine, and it was oddly mismatched with the delicacy of his features. If one was going to call Thomas handsome, Jimmy thought- it could hardly be done without mentioning in the same sense that he was also peculiar.
What does he look like? Jimmy thought. Handsome and peculiar. What is he like? Kind and wicked. The hero and the villain. The hero and the maiden, ha-ha. The poet and the agnostic.
Jimmy's eyes traced helplessly along the lines of Thomas's form- his pants clung to him, and Jimmy could see the- outlines- of Thomas's body under the cloth, and he had to avert his gaze. "Put a shirt on, won't you," Jimmy said, flatly, but Thomas did not move from where he stood, or even look away from Jimmy.
"Are you upset with me?" Thomas asked- and the non sequitur, when they had been so carefully avoiding certain topics, made Jimmy's heart skip a beat. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you," Jimmy bit out. His tone sounded oddly formal- forced- in his own ears.
"I asked if y'were-"
"I know what you asked," Jimmy snarled- because he was angry with Thomas- suddenly he was very angry, and he fisted his hands through his hair in a helpless gesture of rage. Thomas took two steps forward at Jimmy's consternation, and Jimmy threw up his hands, palms out, in the universal motion for stay back.
"I won't do anything you don't want me to do," Thomas said, and Jimmy thought that he would die from that, from the acute discomfort he felt when Thomas said that, so sincerely, as if it were even of relevance.
"Do you still have those earrings?" Jimmy asked, for a way to change the subject. His voice was so raw and low- as if he had been shouting all afternoon- that by the end of the sentence it had trailed off unintelligibly- but Thomas had understood him- Thomas's brows knit together, and he shook his head. "No," he said, immediately.
"You're lying," Jimmy said, after a second of scrutiny. "Your parents are dead. You've got only a cousin in Bombay. Even if you had to sell all they had, after they died- you kept the earrings. I know it."
"No," Thomas said, his tone darker than it had been before. "I don't have them. So don't go looking for them."
"I wouldn't take them," Jimmy said, and Thomas took another step towards him. Jimmy shifted in his dressing gown, clasping his stupidly trembling hands in front of himself, so that Thomas could not see that he had an erection. I have to go, Jimmy thought. It's hotter than the devil in here.
"Are you alright?" Thomas asked. He'd stepped closer while Jimmy hadn't been paying attention, and now they were an arm's length apart, maybe less. Jimmy could see the lines on Thomas's forehead, etched in an indication of concern. "You're humming," Thomas intoned, and carefully took another step.
"No, I'm not," Jimmy said, pressing his shoulders to the wall. The music had been in his head, that was all. He kept his hands firmly in front of him. "Jimmy-" Thomas said- and his face was anxious but his voice was kind, and Jimmy suddenly couldn't take it anymore. I hate you, Jimmy thought, very clearly- the thought was so sudden and so vicious that it took his breath away- and in place of breath Jimmy was filled with a terrible loathing- no, it was worse that loathing- it was horror, absolute and terrifying- and he slammed his hands into Thomas's shoulders as hard as he possibly could, so that Thomas stumbled almost all the way back into the far wall, gasping. Jimmy advanced on him, wanting to hit him, wanting to beat Thomas until he couldn't speak- and he raised his hands again, this time to do some grim, incalculable harm to the injured man- but Thomas had recovered, and he grabbed Jimmy in a manner identical to the way Jimmy had grabbed him- squeezing his shoulders too hard- with an expression of fixed determination.
"Get off me," Jimmy snarled, and Thomas shoved him backwards- pushing with his hands and his legs against Jimmy's body- not as roughly as Jimmy had shoved him- until Jimmy's back hit plaster. They had crossed the room again, in an angry waltz. Jimmy felt almost like laughing- and Thomas looked down into his face, pinning Jimmy with his arresting eyes. Jimmy tried to shake off Thomas's grasp- but Thomas, his face set, took a step back, dropping his hands of his own volition, and then took a breath.
"I know you're angry," Thomas said- almost inaudibly. Jimmy tried to conjure up a derisive sound from his breathless lungs, but he had none.
"I know you're angry-" Thomas said again- more evenly this time- "But you can't fight me now. You'll wake everybody up."
"I-" Jimmy had no idea what he'd meant to say- and he scraped around for anything. "I- don't feel very well, Mr. Barrow," he said, after a moment. "I think I need a bit of rest." Jimmy tried not to let his eyes fall upon Thomas's body. In the humid air it was very difficult to find enough breath, and Jimmy struggled against the too-rapid pace of his heart. "I..." he didn't move. Thomas was still near him- Jimmy would brush against him now, if he tried to leave. Thomas had an erection- Jimmy saw the unmissable rise of it under the cloth of Thomas's nightclothes- and he snapped his head up, his face growing as hot as the rest of him.
"I know you don't feel well," Thomas said. His gaze was intent- and he lifted one hand, so slowly that Jimmy could hardly fail to miss it- and placed it carefully on Jimmy's upper arm. Jimmy felt his touch through his pyjamas and dressing gown as surely as if Thomas had laid a hand on his bare skin. "Ah-" Jimmy said- a noise escaped him involuntarily- and Thomas leaned over him a bit more, so that Jimmy could see every line traced delicately into the skin of his red lower lip- and the edges of the cut on the far left side of Thomas's mouth. "Tell me what you want me to do," Thomas said, lowly, and Jimmy turned his face to the side, closing his eyes. He could feel Thomas's proximity and the shaking of his own body- and nothing else, nothing else in the whole world. When he did not answer Thomas used the hand on his arm to prod him. "Tell me what you want me to do to you," Thomas said, and Jimmy's breath hitched. I want you- I want you to- Jimmy thought- but he snapped the thought off at the root like a branch, and flung it away from him. He was not sure where that train of thought ran to or from- but he knew it would lead him to madness if he followed it. I could go mad right now, Jimmy thought- he pictured it perfectly- beginning to laugh and never being able to stop, sliding to the floor, gibbering and screaming until he was taken away- "I don't know," Jimmy said, tightly. "I can't-"
"Yes, you can," Thomas said, and put his other hand- his left- against Jimmy's chest, pressing him firmly into the wall. "Ah, Thomas," Jimmy muttered. Somehow their faces were close enough together that their lips brushed- so softly that it almost seemed not to have happened at all. But it had happened, because Jimmy had felt the unbearable softness of Thomas's mouth. "Mm," Jimmy said- he didn't mean to make any sound- but the feeling had left an odd tingling its its wake, like an itch under the skin. Thomas was leaning back and looking at him. Jimmy could see the rapid rise and fall of Thomas's chest- and the red flush that spread across his face. The marks on Thomas's shoulders where Jimmy's fingers had cruelly clutched at him during their struggle were turning rapidly into little bruises. "It really will be fine," Thomas whispered- his tone was sweet- and unsteady. "I promise it will," Thomas said- and Jimmy tensed up when Thomas leaned in again- and pressed his lips to Jimmy's mouth.
"Ah, god," Jimmy said, against Thomas's mouth- it was so pleasurable that Jimmy felt as if his own lips somehow directed the rest of his whole body, sending sensation washing through it in crippling waves. Thomas's mouth moved ever so slightly against his- Thomas kissed his upper lip, and then his lower lip- and then the corner of his mouth- and Jimmy could not help it- his lips parted in response- and he felt his cock strain against the fabric of his pants- he was so hard that it seemed he had never understood arousal before- he was shaking everywhere, the only solid thing in the world was the wall at his back.
"God, yes," Jimmy said, "Please, give me-" he didn't know what he wanted. Have never even had him in my bed, Jimmy thought, but want him, yes, that much may go unsaid- "Ah- hah," Jimmy said, turning his face from Thomas's and taking a few shuddering grabs at air. Thomas was peering at him, with concern- carefully he removed his hand from Jimmy's chest, and touched his cheek, tilting Jimmy's face towards his own. Jimmy was forced to look into Thomas's eyes- and down to the part of his lips- and he shuddered again, a full body shudder. "It's good, isn't it," Thomas said- Jimmy remembered that he himself had said the same thing hours ago- but that was a different life, a different universe than this- as if everything that had ever happened to Jimmy had happened before, and now he had stumbled into after. He wanted Thomas to do something, to not draw out the agony any longer, and Jimmy said- "Yes, it's very good, it's-"
"Yes," Thomas said, and dropped his arm, his hand leaving Jimmy's cheek- and by careful degrees he leaned against Jimmy. His bare skin came up against Jimmy's, and then Thomas pushed his leg between Jimmy's legs, so that the muscles of his thigh pressed against the juncture of Jimmy's legs.
"Ah, huh, hmm-" Jimmy said. Thomas's leg pushed against his cock, and against his hip he could feel Thomas's erection, rock hard and warmer even than the stifling room. Thomas pushed them together and then stilled abruptly, looking into Jimmy's face. Oh, god, Jimmy thought- it was as if he had never known how much he had needed anything until he felt Thomas's body firmly against his, and for a moment there was nothing but the sensation of blissful pressure- enough almost in itself- but then Thomas rocked his leg against Jimmy's body, so that they moved together. Thomas's erection bumped against his hip- and Jimmy felt Thomas grind ever so slightly against him. "Ahh that feels ahh that- yes- oh-" Jimmy babbled, and Thomas bit his own lip, his eyes slitted shut, and hissed, as if he were in pain. Jimmy's hands came around Thomas's waist- and he pressed his palms against the flat of Thomas's back- trying to hold him there, so that he could have more of the intense sensation of friction. "Yes," Thomas said, softly, and rocked against him again. "Huh, god," Jimmy moaned, and Thomas's hand was suddenly over his mouth. "B-be very quiet-" Thomas said- and Jimmy's heart skipped a beat- he had been so overwhelmed that he had utterly forgotten they were doing something dangerous. Thomas's left hand was touching Jimmy's side, and Jimmy leaned into the touch of his fingers. "The door," Jimmy said, tersely- and Thomas pulled away from him. Suddenly the pressure was lost- and Jimmy felt such frustration that it was almost painful- he leaned against the wall, one hand clutching his stomach, as Thomas grabbed the desk chair. Jimmy watched Thomas wedge the chair under the doorhandle. "Poor man's lock," Thomas said, and Jimmy laughed shakily. "Right," he said, and tried to still the trembling of his hands- but Thomas had come back over to him. Thomas took Jimmy's left hand in his right hand- and he squeezed it- even that was too much for Jimmy's overstimulated body, and he bit the inside of his cheeks to try and grant himself some lucidity. Thomas was standing directly in front of him again, and Jimmy reached out, to pull him closer- but Thomas did not allow himself to be pulled forward- he studied Jimmy as if he were looking at a cathedral ceiling- with reverence. "Let me touch you," Thomas said- his tone was very polite, as if he were asking for a pitcher to be passed- but his eyes were dark and unfocused with desire. Jimmy nodded- "Fine," he managed- "Yes-" and Thomas, with a looked of fixed attention, reached his hands carefully to Jimmy's abdomen, and pressed them flat against his body- Jimmy stood still, his heart pounding in his chest, and the ache between his legs growing even worse- as Thomas's rubbed his hands slowly down the line of Jimmy's dressing gown. "You're so- Jimmy, you're so-" Thomas stopped at his hips- and looked directly into Jimmy's eyes, for a moment- and then Thomas reached down and cupped his hand against Jimmy's erection. "Oh, sh-shite," Jimmy said, as the breath was taken forcibly from his lungs- he gasped, and his hands wound around Thomas's shoulders. Thomas did not move his hand, and Jimmy could feel the throb of his own heartbeat in his cock- and how it pressed against Thomas's still fingers. "G-god, Thomas, god, yes," Jimmy said, and pushed forward, into Thomas's hand- the pressure engulfed him, and Jimmy rested his head against Thomas's shoulder, with Thomas's arm trapped between them. "You feel good," Thomas whispered, against Jimmy's ear. Thomas began to move him hand- only slightly- it pressed against the shaft of Jimmy's penis, rubbing against cloth in slow circles, and Jimmy bit back a cry, and rolled his hips into Thomas's touch. "God, that's too much," Jimmy muttered. "That's too much, god, god-"
"Come over to the bed with me," Thomas said- and Jimmy looked at him, suddenly alarmed. "It's all right," Thomas said, at his expression- and Thomas sounded so honest, so truthful as he spoke that Jimmy's fear abated a little, against his own reservations. "It's just hard to stand like this," Thomas said, nodding. With his hand Thomas indicated his own injuries, a bit reluctantly.
Oh, of course, Jimmy thought- and in his chest Jimmy felt a strange pain- as if his emotions had taken part of his body for themselves. Still he could not will his feet to move- but Thomas removed his hand from between Jimmy's hips, and Jimmy groaned at the loss of pressure. "Wait-" he said- but Thomas only kissed his mouth- very lightly- and then his cheek- and pulled Jimmy backwards with him, towards the bed. "Come along, please," Thomas said- his voice was ruined with lust but still he managed to say it in mock-imperious tones- and Jimmy followed Thomas's mouth, and the hands that tugged at his arms, until they had reached the cot- and Jimmy watched Thomas sit down in his invalid's way- and then- with a noise like thunder in his ears- Jimmy followed suit, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Thomas was on him again, running a hand through his hair- tugging his dressing gown off his shoulders- and Jimmy complied, pulling his arms out f the sleeves of it. "You don't need to worry," Thomas said, quietly, and kissed his mouth- this time Jimmy parted his lips immediately, and Thomas kissed him more firmly, drawing their upper bodies together. "I'll take care of you," Thomas said, when he'd pulled back, for a breath- and Jimmy fought back the inappropriate urge to laugh- because Thomas was clearly not qualified to take care of anybody- and anyways, Jimmy had always taken care of himself- but his throat was too dry for him to laugh- and arousal was rolling over him like a great wave. It made it hard for Jimmy to sit cross-legged- he kept shifting his weight, as if that would somehow alter the painful tenderness of his body.
"Do you want to take these off?" Thomas asked roughly, grasping at Jimmy's underclothes- but Jimmy pressed his lips together and shook his head no- he could not bear to have Thomas see him so vulnerable- the obviousness of his arousal was already too much. "Alright," Thomas said, nodding acquiescently- and then his hands were on Jimmy's torso again, and he pushed Jimmy back, lightly, so that Jimmy was lying back against the mattress, with his head at the bottom of the bed. "Huh," Jimmy said, at the feeling of Thomas's hands on his chest, applying force. Thomas was leaning over him, and Jimmy lifted his head up, for a kiss- but Thomas only pressed one kiss to his mouth- and then one to the bare, overheated skin of Jimmy's throat- which felt so good that Jimmy muttered something in appreciation. "Mm, yes," Thomas answered, and crawled further down his body- he moved stiffly, clearly in some pain- but his movements were precise and certain- his lips grazed Jimmy's shirt at the bottom of his ribcage- and then on his navel- and then on the jut of his hipbone- making Jimmy's breath come in a strange way, with a sound like sobbing- and Jimmy rocked his hips up, his whole body tense with a painful need- I can't, Jimmy thought, I have to-
-And then Thomas placed his mouth against Jimmy's hardon- and Thomas kissed Jimmy's cock through his pants, pressing his lips against the tip of it. "Ah," Jimmy moaned, lowly, trying to keep quiet. At his sides his hands dug into the bed's coverlet, pulling it up in twists- and Jimmy looked down at Thomas- Thomas between his legs, with his dark hair falling into his eyes and his dark lips moving against Jimmy's erection. Oh god I can't I can't please- Jimmy thought, moving his hips up and down with jerky, incoherent motions-
"You smell good," Thomas said, his voice thick- and then he ran his tongue along the length of Jimmy's cloth-constrained hardness. "A-ahhh-" Jimmy blurted, and sat up immediately, rocking forward in one motion. "No," Jimmy said, shakily- for a moment he had lost all sense of his own being- it had been as frightening as the moment he had experienced in front of his vanity mirror- but this time he had almost lost himself to pleasure- and that was even more frightening, in a way. Jimmy's heart beat against his ribs like the heart of a fox caught in a hunt. Jimmy thought that his only hope- the only way to stop this now, before he did something irrevocable, would be to run away, but he was so hard that he could barely crawl- and Thomas was sitting upright with him, holding him. They both sat cross-legged, now- and Thomas's face and chest were splotchy and red, as if Thomas were so aroused that even his skin would not obey him- but his hands rubbed soothing circles onto Jimmy's back, and his eyes looked only at Jimmy's face. "Please," Jimmy whispered, and pressed his forehead to Thomas's. "Thomas- I don't know-"
"Shh, yes, it's alright, I've got you," Thomas said, and Jimmy scowled at him. "Don't patronize me, I'm not a child-" Jimmy said- though his voice broke over the sentence, but Thomas only nodded, and then kissed Jimmy's forehead. "I'm sorry, I know that, of course I do," Thomas answered- but he gathered Jimmy to himself, squeezing him for a moment. "I'm sorry, I just- I just want to be kind to you," Thomas went on, his voice a rough whisper- "I'm poor at it but I just want to be kind to you, I'm sorry-"
"Don't," Jimmy said- the sound of Thomas repeating those phrases wounded him, somehow- and he kissed Thomas's mouth to make him silent. Thomas kissed him back, and Jimmy felt the brush of his tongue- and moaned at it- it was so intimate- and then Thomas put his hand again between Jimmy's legs, and Jimmy stifled a sound that would have been too loud, had he given voice to it-
"Ah, yes, t-touch me," Jimmy said- he put his arms around Thomas's bare shoulders- and Thomas gripped Jimmy's erection though his pyjamas. "Uh, yes," Jimmy said, stupidly- and Thomas looked at him. "Jimmy," he said, quietly, and Jimmy tried to open his eyes a bit more, to indicate that he was listening- but he could move nothing except his hips, which brought him closer to Thomas's hand. "I'm going to-" Thomas said, lowly- and his fingers paused at the hem of Jimmy's pants. Thomas kept his eyes fixed on Jimmy, as if waiting for his approval- and Jimmy nodded yes, once- to the unasked question- although he was not positive what the question was. "I'm going to touch you," Thomas said- completing his thought- and he dipped his hand into Jimmy's pants, and gripped his leaking cock with strong fingers. At the touch of Thomas's hand against him, without any barrier, Jimmy gritted his teeth. "Nnghh, god, shite," Jimmy said. His blood pulsed in his ears and his prick. He could see Thomas's face- his lips, which looked swollen- and the outline of Thomas's erection under his pyjamas- and when he looked directly down, Jimmy could see Thomas's hand on his penis, his fingers curled into a loose fist, tracing the length of his shaft. "God," Jimmy said, staring at the sight. Jimmy was so aroused that everything- even the touch- hurt- and the sight of it hurt- but it felt so good that Jimmy could not help moving against Thomas's hand, with sounds spilling out from between his tight-pressed lips-
"Like that?" Thomas asked him, his face a mask of concentrated effort- and he changed the twist of his hands, drawing from Jimmy another low moan. "Whatever you do feels good," Jimmy ground out from between his clenched teeth- and Thomas took a shuddering breath- and kissed Jimmy's cheek, and ran his free hand through Jimmy's hair and down the back of his neck. The kiss on his cheek turned into a kiss on his lips- and Jimmy kissed back desperately, his body pushing back and forth in counterpoint to how Thomas touched him. "Do it to me like you do it to yourself," Jimmy said, breaking the kiss- and Thomas looked confused for a beat- but then he nodded. "Oh- alright," Thomas answered- and hesitantly he rearranged his hand, making a loop around the head of Jimmy's prick- and he bumped Jimmy's erection around inside of the rough circle of his fingers. Jimmy watched this, transfixed. "Ahh ah- t-that f-feels very nice, yes, I like to know how- I want to- ah- like you d-do it to yourself-" Jimmy said. he didn't know what he was saying anymore, only that he needed to come- if he didn't he would die, he thought he would really die-
"Yes, god, yes," Thomas was saying, and Jimmy shuddered, and moaned in frustration- he was so bloody hard- but he was caught on the edge of completion- his body painfully tense. "I can't," Jimmy mumbled, his voice almost lost, trying to get a decent breath- but it was impossible with Thomas's hand on him. "I can't, Thomas," Jimmy moaned- he felt almost frantic with need- but his body would not release him from terrible, overpowering arousal. "I can't," Jimmy said, anxiously, and grasped at Thomas's bruised shoulders- "I- ahn- I can't-"
But Thomas did not seem concerned at Jimmy's near-panic- nor at the way Jimmy turned his body frantically on the sheets- he only kissed Jimmy again, and pressed against Jimmy's lower back with his free hand. "It's just nerves, that's all," Thomas said- so matter-of-fact that Jimmy's panic abated, a little, and he felt again the staggering pleasure of Thomas's touch. "Yes," Jimmy said- he meant it as a question, but the insistent friction of Thomas's hand made him quite unable to put any inflection in his own voice. "Yes," Thomas said. "Come here. It'll help if you watch-" and he pulled Jimmy in close to him by the small of Jimmy's back, so that their foreheads were touching again. "Mmm, ahh," Jimmy said, looking down- and seeing his cock in Thomas's hand- "Thomas," Jimmy said, lowly. "I can't- I need you- please t-tell me something-"
"Yes, anything," Thomas said, squeezing his palm against Jimmy's erection- and Jimmy cried out- but he stifled the cry against Thomas's shoulder, his body heaving- and still Thomas stroked him relentlessly. "Tell you what, Jimmy-" Thomas whispered, his voice heavy with arousal- and Jimmy put their heads together again, staring down at Thomas's beautiful fingers as they moved. "Uh," Jimmy said, ""T-tell me one of your poems-"
Now Thomas laughed, shakily, and shook his head. "I can't think of anything," Thomas muttered, biting his lip- and Jimmy moaned again- "Ah- ah- t-tell me the o-one about the- I don't know- the one t-that starts- 'Oh, one loved love-" Jimmy begged, quoting Thomas to himself.
"Uh... Oh, one loved love," Thomas murmured back to him- and with each line he stroked Jimmy firmly- "and one loved only fear-"
"Ah, god, please," Jimmy said, running his hands across Thomas's back, trying to pull him closer.
"-and one held some specific temple dear-"
"God, yes," Jimmy hissed, bucking upwards with his hips, and looking between Thomas's lips and Thomas's hand- his heart was hammering so that he thought he would die, and he felt his body begin to tense inexorably-
"And I loved him," Thomas said, rubbing Jimmy's cock- "and him- and his love, too-"
"Christ, yes, oh Christ-" Jimmy said, feeling within his own body the refrain of Thomas's words-
"And I confess, in many ways I knew- that evening, that I should have said- and you, I love you, too, and you-" Thomas intoned hoarsely, and Jimmy felt himself give in- his mind letting his body find completion at last- and he moaned lowly as he came. "Ah, ah, ah, ahh-" Jimmy said, watching as semen spilled from the slit of his prick all over Thomas's fingers- and how Thomas kept touching him, until Jimmy was done. "God, Jimmy," Thomas said, unsteadily, and Jimmy slumped into the crease of Thomas's shoulder, putting his burning forehead against Thomas's skin, his body shaking with relief.
For a moment Jimmy had no thoughts at all, and his breathing retreated from wild and shallow to more normal paces- and then he came back to himself- and he wasn't undone by love anymore- he was aware- for the first time, since the oranges, of what exactly was happening. His cock was softening in Thomas's hand. In Thomas's hand. And there they sat on Thomas's bed.
What have you done? Jimmy's mind asked him, abruptly- and Jimmy knew then that he was going to be sick. Jimmy stood up from the cot so quickly that he felt blood rush into his skull, making him lightheaded- and he stumbled towards the door, shoving his spent prick into his pants- and all but knocked the chair aside in his haste to leave. Behind him Thomas was saying something, but Jimmy couldn't hear what it was over the rushing in his ears- he pushed through the door and ran down the hallway, to the washroom- and scarcely made it to the toilet bowl before he vomited. Jimmy crouched over the bowl, heaving up the contents of his meager dinner. What have you done, he asked himself, the refrain echoing hollowly in his own ears. What have you done what have you done what have you-
"Jimmy," Thomas's voice suddenly broke into Jimmy's thoughts- Thomas was there, closing the door behind himself- and Jimmy balked at the sight of him, and rose to his feet, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Stay away from me," Jimmy snapped, and went to push by him- but Thomas put his arms out, so that Jimmy was caught in his embrace. "It's alright, Jimmy," Thomas said, and tried to touch Jimmy's face- but Jimmy dodged his touch- and then, as he made to pull away again, Jimmy hesitated, not wanting to see the hurt that registered in Thomas's expression. "It's alright, Jimmy," Thomas repeated- and though his face showed pain- he looked into Jimmy's eyes, making his tone quite firm. "It's good," Thomas said, more firmly, when he saw Jimmy's hesitation- and Jimmy stilled in the circle of his arms. "I swear it," Thomas went on, his tone reassuring- and his face was so lovely and so sincere that Jimmy's stomach twisted- and he leaned his shaking form against Thomas's body.
"Everything is going to be fine," Thomas murmured in his ear- Thomas's voice was even, and his hands ran down Jimmy's back- but Jimmy could feel how hard Thomas was, still, and how Thomas's breath hitched when Jimmy leaned against him. "I don't think it's fine," Jimmy replied, and turned his head, when Thomas leaned towards him. "Don't do that, my mouth is awful," Jimmy said, quietly. "I just-"
"Mmm, right," Thomas said, and settled, instead, for kissing Jimmy's brow.
"I am out of sorts," Jimmy said- he could not explain anything, certainly not how he felt- and yet Thomas's arousal did strange things to Jimmy- and he cast his eyes downwards- to where Thomas's cock rose under his pyjama pants. Thomas was so hard that Jimmy could see a little spot of wetness on the white cloth- and Jimmy's stomach flipped at the idea of Thomas being so aroused, at the look of Thomas being so aroused- in a way that signaled that if Jimmy's body had been capable, the sight of Thomas- like that- would have undone him. But it was too soon for it to happen again. It won't take long, though, Jimmy realized- and he deliberately pressed the flat of his hand against the jut of Thomas's cock. Thomas's eyes widened with surprise- and his face was suffused with brilliant color- his lips parted- and Jimmy watched him, fascinated- and moved his hand again. "Nnngh, oh-" Thomas said, his eyes squeezing shut. This is why people go to jail for sodomy, Jimmy thought, madly, they start and then they can't stop, they just want it again and again-
And then a board creaked in the hallway, and Jimmy sprang back from Thomas as if he had been burned, and pushed through the washroom door, his heart pounding wildly. Caught, we're caught, Jimmy thought- and he wondered why he had ever trusted Thomas to keep them safe- Thomas who had gotten caught by Alfred- Thomas who clearly had no understanding of what was at stake-
But the hallway was empty- it had been only the phantom sounds of an old house. Thomas was behind him, and in the hall he caught Jimmy's wrist. "Come back with me," Thomas whispered- and Jimmy tore his hand away, shaking his head. "No," Jimmy said, through his teeth. "I'm goin' to my room." At Thomas's crestfallen expression Jimmy felt cruel, and so he added, clumsily, "Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Jimmy," Thomas said- but before he had even finished the sentiment Jimmy was shutting the door to his own room, cutting off Thomas from his sight. Jimmy slumped down, his back against the door, and sat with his head in his hands for a long time- and while he sat, without realizing it was happening- Jimmy fell into a fitful sleep, and dreamed of hands and traps and tricks, and long hallways that terminated, suddenly, in darkness.
