Chapter 3

Thomas's entire body bloomed with heat, making him dizzy. Oh, he wouldn't survive this.

Jimmy was kissing him, pressing his hips into him, and he tasted like alcohol and something tangy and sweet— raspberries? Thomas chased the flavor, the weakness in his body forgotten as he ran his hands down Jimmy's perfect back. He felt so very good—lean and warm and heavy atop him—and Jimmy's erection was pressing against his bare thigh.

Thomas felt something in his brain pop and fizz like fresh champagne.

Jimmy broke the kiss, gasping, and Thomas didn't even have time to take in a full breath before Jimmy's mouth was at his neck, sucking hard with just an edge of teeth.

"Jimmy," he hissed, gripping Jimmy's hair to prevent him from moving. He was so aroused he could barely think, but Jimmy was more important, always. "Are you—are you sure you—?"

Jimmy groaned in frustration. "Yes, just let me do it Thomas—"

Jimmy felt Thomas give in beneath him, his hand releasing Jimmy's hair and falling to his neck instead. In that moment Jimmy realized how afraid he'd been that Thomas would refuse him—he deserved much worse than rejection, after everything he'd put Thomas through—but as always Thomas couldn't help himself when it came to Jimmy.

Oh, how Jimmy loved him.

"Alright Jimmy," Thomas said, and Jimmy didn't know why he sounded so damn tender and soft when Jimmy felt like he was on fire, or like he'd die if Thomas didn't touch him. His heart was racing and his cock pounded between his legs, and all he wanted was for Thomas to roll him over and—and—Jimmy didn't know what exactly, he just knew he needed Thomas to take him, in whatever way he could, until there was nothing left of him capable of feeling.

Jimmy pulled himself up to kiss Thomas's mouth, and as he did he clearly felt Thomas's erection slide against his stomach, burning a path on his skin like a brand. Jimmy cried out, his hips surging into Thomas.

"Oh Christ,"

Unthinkingly he reached down and unbuttoned his trousers, trying to relieve the pressure on his prick. For a moment he struggled, then Thomas's hands joined his, expertly helping him push down his trousers and underthings. As soon as he was free of his clothes Thomas's hands finally grew more daring, running over Jimmy's body from his shoulders to his chest and stomach, then around to his backside. One hand was smooth as silk but the other was rough, and the eroticism of it had Jimmy shaking and whimpering into Thomas's mouth, pushing his cock helplessly into Thomas's hip over and over again.

Thomas made a noise like he was in pain, and then suddenly Jimmy was on his back, and Thomas was between his legs.

Jimmy arched into him, his breath coming out like sobs when Thomas aligned their erections and began to thrust. Jimmy wouldn't last, he really wouldn't—desperately he raked his nails down Thomas's back, and Thomas kissed him, biting his lower lip just hard enough to sting. Jimmy cursed and raised his knees, wrapping his legs around Thomas's hips to pull him closer, his prick leaking between their bodies. Oh, but the friction, it was too cold even under the tarp for enough sweat—

"Thomas, oh please oh please Thomas please—"

Thomas stopped thrusting and Jimmy heard a spitting sound, and then—

Jimmy's whole body jerked. Thomas was coating their pricks in something hot and wet, his deft fingers briefly stroking them together, and Jimmy bucked and writhed at the touch. Oh, oh— and then Thomas removed his hand and began to push their bodies together, his breath scorching on Jimmy's skin.

Something in Jimmy snapped.

He shouted and clutched at Thomas, gripping the place where his hips surged against Jimmy, and that was enough. Jimmy cried out and came, seeing stars explode behind his eyes. The blazing pleasure of it rippled through his entire body, leaving him weak and destroyed on the other side of some great chasm. Distantly he heard Thomas groaning out blasphemies and endearments and Jimmy's name, rolling his hips into the wetness on Jimmy's belly. Jimmy wound his hands around Thomas's arms and held on.

Thomas thrust hard against him four more times before he stiffened and came, his orgasm silent but for a sharp drawn-in breath. Then Thomas fell against him, trembling, and Jimmy could do nothing but lay there, stunned.

He felt as if he'd been shattered, and all the pieces of him scattered to the winds.

Sometime later, Jimmy came back to himself.

He expected to feel panicked or out of control, but he didn't. Instead he was just… content.

Nothing had ever been like that—well, literally nothing had ever been like that, because he'd never done anything like it before. But now, as he lay beneath Thomas with the evidence of what they'd done spilled all over his skin, he didn't feel afraid for the first time in a very long time.

"You alright, Jimmy?" Thomas asked softly. His voice was barely a thread of sound in the dark, utterly wrecked.

Jimmy tentatively patted Thomas's back, not sure how to touch him anymore. "Yes, o' course."

Haltingly Thomas shifted to the side and slid off Jimmy, his limbs shaking with the effort. Jimmy felt a stab of guilt. He'd done… that to Thomas when he was weak and had almost died… they were lucky Thomas hadn't fainted in the middle of it.

Thomas resettled at Jimmy's side and draped an arm across his chest, sighing into Jimmy's shoulder. Jimmy knew they'd both be asleep within moments—if he were going to say what he needed to say, he had to do it now.

Jimmy's heart thumped. "Thomas?"

"…Hm?"

"I told you this was just for tonight, and I stand by what I said."

Thomas pressed a kiss to Jimmy's shoulder, saying nothing.

Jimmy swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight.

"When we get back to the house it will be just like before," he went on roughly. "We'll be mates, and that's all."

He waited for Thomas to protest, but he remained silent. Jimmy forced himself to go on. "I know you want love and all of that soppy nonsense. I suppose you think we should continue with this and keep it a secret, but it wouldn't work. You're bloody terrible at hiding it as it is, and I'm not— I'm not—" Jimmy faltered. He didn't know how to explain that bit, so he skipped it and moved on. "—So we're not doing it again."

Jimmy wasn't sure if he were making any sense. Hot tears were burning in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. He just needed Thomas to know, to understand: Jimmy couldn't do this.

"Alright, Jimmy," Thomas murmured, his breath warm on Jimmy's skin. He didn't sound upset, or angry, or even surprised.

Jimmy stiffened, outraged. "So you don't believe me, then?" he snapped. "Think now that I've had a taste, I won't be able to help myself later? Or are you going to try an' seduce me, trick me into changing me mind?"

Thomas huffed. "No," he said, sounding very tired. "I haven't got any tricks, or whatever else you're thinking I've got up me sleeve…"

Jimmy was taken aback. "Then why aren't you protesting?"

Maybe he'd been really poor at it—Jimmy's pride shrank from the idea in horror.

"I'm too bloody exhausted to protest…" Thomas muttered. "Of course I'm sure I'll be in quite the state come morning, but you needn't worry, Jimmy, I believe you meant every word. And I'm not going to try an'—an' seduce you, or do anything else you don't want me to."

Jimmy relaxed slightly, though his heart still pounded. "Then what are you going to do, then?" he demanded.

"I suppose I'll do what I did before," Thomas said softly. "I'll be your friend. If you never give me more than that, I'll be happy enough just being near you— of course I'll be hoping you change your mind, but there's nothing wrong with having hope, is there?"

Jimmy snorted, the tears in his eyes finally spilling over. Thomas was a ridiculous, soppy fool. With everyone else he was cold and unforgiving, sharp as a knife— but with Jimmy he were soft and sweet as jam on toast.

"No, I suppose not…" Jimmy whispered.

Jimmy slept fitfully.

He woke many times in the night, the cold preventing him from achieving a deep sleep for long. Twice he woke because he accidentally pulled an arm or leg out from under the protection of the tarp, and the icy air had him jolting awake in panic.

Once he dreamed about Thomas falling into the river.

In the dream Jimmy couldn't move to save him, and he'd had to watch helplessly as Thomas thrashed in the water until his strength gave out. After he disappeared under the ice Jimmy saw his parents standing on the other side of the river, watching silently; it was as if they were waiting for Thomas to join them and leave Jimmy all alone.

This dream had Jimmy shaking awake in horror, and he had to lay with his ear pressed to Thomas's heart for the rest of the night.

Eventually the gray-blue light of dawn began filtering through the tiny window, so Jimmy roused himself from his stupor. He dug under the tarp and found his trousers, sliding them on clumsily.

He wondered how they could get back to Downton when Thomas had nothing to wear—the water logged clothes were now a frosted tangle on the floor of the shed, and his boots looked like lumps of ice. Even if he could somehow dress Thomas for the cold, the man was likely too weak to make the journey. It would probably fall to Jimmy to go back alone, and then return with a proper rescue team.

Jimmy blinked and rubbed his sore eyes. His thoughts felt slow; he was painfully thirsty and hungry, and his head pounded. Even beneath all that he craved a smoke…

His lighter.

It was still in his coat pocket if he remembered right. Could he build a fire now that the storm had passed? Once there was enough light to see by, perhaps he could, then he and Thomas could warm up properly.

Jimmy congratulated himself on his clever thinking and leaned down to brush a soft kiss to Thomas's forehead. Then he snuggled down under the tarp to wait, tucking his head under Thomas's chin.

He didn't have to wait long; as soon as he could see well enough to tell what sort of tools hung on the walls, Jimmy slipped out from under the tarp and hissed as his shirtless body felt the cold. As quickly as he could he found his shirt, coat, and boots, and put them on.

His lighter was just where it always was: in his right breast pocket. He investigated the contents of the shed and found a small pile of dry, dirty rags that would suffice for kindling—but he'd have to venture outdoors for firewood.

Jimmy grimaced.

Before he left he checked on Thomas again, stroking his lovely hair away from his face. He looked beautiful even like this, his face relaxed in sleep, his skin pale and perfect but for the shadows under his eyes. Jimmy prayed he would recover from this ordeal without falling ill. Sickness could be just as frightening as gunfire in Jimmy's opinion…

Jimmy shivered and pressed another light kiss to Thomas's skin.

Distantly Jimmy wondered how he was ever going to live without being so close to Thomas again, but he shoved the thought aside. Now was not the time.

Jimmy left the shed and quietly shut the door behind him, his breath coming out as white clouds in the silent air. Everything looked blue and gray, the sun a distant yellow glow beyond the dark trees. The snow had piled up even more overnight, Jimmy realized; it came up almost to his knees now.

Cursing softly, Jimmy waded through it to look for firewood.

It was very difficult; the snow covered everything, and the low tree branches within his reach were likely too moist to burn easily. After a long and fruitless search, Jimmy finally found a fallen tree near the river. It looked to have been dead just long enough to dry out, but not long enough that it had grown soft with rot.

He broke and tore and wrenched as much wood from the tree as he could and made his way back to the shed. For good measure, he made two more trips to the tree and back so he had a sizable pile stacked next to the door.

With that done, Jimmy dug a large hole in the snow, clearing an area from the shed's doorway to a spot a safe distance away. There he began building his fire, arranging the wood expertly. As a young boy his father had put him in charge of all the fires in the house, and though he'd resented the extra chore at the time he was now glad of his father's rigid insistence on it—it meant he was excellent at starting fires.

The kindling and the wood were certainly not ideal—the rags didn't burn well, and though the wood was dry much of it was wet on the outside with melted snow. Still, Jimmy kept at it, cursing with frustration all the while, until finally the fire caught and warmth began to radiate into the air. Jimmy slumped back in relief, listening to the fire crackle and pop. Christ, but he was knackered

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy jumped up and opened the door to find Thomas awake, shivering and wide-eyed. His red lips were pale again, and his eyes had dark shadows beneath them. In the brighter light of day it was obvious he was not well.

"Are you alright?" Jimmy asked, fear tightening his stomach.

Thomas nodded, though he looked ready to collapse back to the shed floor at any moment.

"I've built us a fire outside," Jimmy said. "Let's get you wrapped up tight, and I'll help you sit next to it."

Thinking fast, Jimmy took one of the wooden crates and set it by the fire so Thomas didn't have to sit on the ground. Then he helped Thomas stand up and shuffle outside.

Once Thomas was safely sitting near the flames, Jimmy brought out a box for himself and sat down close beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Looks like I'll have to go back to Downton and get together a proper rescue party for you," Jimmy said. "And call Dr. Clarkson, of course."

"Makes sense," Thomas rasped. "But you mustn't get lost again, Jimmy."

Jimmy bristled. "I won't. Its daylight now and I can see the sun to tell the direction, can't I?"

Thomas's lips curled up slightly. "Right," he agreed. "If you head west you should make it to the road, and from there to Downton before they serve lunch."

Jimmy pretended he'd already known that detail. "Alright, then I'd better go now while I've still got strength left. I feel like shite meself, but I imagine it's quite a bit worse for you."

Thomas nodded again, and Jimmy stood up. "Do you need me to fetch you anything before I go?" Not that there was much he could actually do.

Thomas squinted up at him, dark hair falling into blue eyes, and even ill and weak Thomas was strikingly beautiful. Suddenly Jimmy remembered the night before, and how he'd never gotten to see Thomas's face when he was undone by pleasure; it had been too dark.

Now he'd never know…

"Got a cig?" Thomas asked.

Jimmy swallowed the lump in his throat and fished in his pocket for one, sticking it in his own mouth to light for Thomas. When it was lit he passed it to him, watching Thomas slide a pale hand out of the tarp to lift it to his lips. The sight of Thomas smoking reassured Jimmy a bit—it was familiar, and the way Thomas did it was like seeing art in motion. No one else smoked like he did.

"Just… just stay upright until I come back for you," Jimmy said awkwardly.

"I'll do me best," Thomas agreed. He was watching Jimmy still, but Jimmy had no idea what he was thinking.

Jimmy shuffled his feet in the snow, unwilling to leave. Once he left, the spell cast by the isolation and the danger would be gone, and Jimmy wouldn't be able to do all the things he wanted…

Before he could second guess himself, Jimmy knelt on the ground in front of Thomas and took the cigarette away from his mouth. Thomas's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything as Jimmy leaned up to kiss him. He made it the best kiss he could, warm and deep and sweet—because it would be the last time he'd ever kiss Thomas Barrow, or anyone else for as long as he lived.