you could have my heart (and i would break it for you)
-or-
be gay do crime
By: Aviantei
The Home Where Others Await Your Return:
"i never wanna leave this town (say you're never gonna leave)"
What with everything else going on, Jameson had all but failed to realise a new month had rolled around and that he was due for a visit to Whitechapel. Said realisation had come to him while in the midst of helping to polish the handrails along the main staircase, and he'd almost dropped the cloth in his hands upon noticing it. With a hurried apology to Louis, Jameson rushed off to his bedroom worktable to scribble out a hasty letter to Miss Penny, the result being that the parchment was stained with the polish still upon his hands, but it was legible, so he tucked it in an envelope and asked Fred to run messenger for him, which the boy agreed to do.
It was with nothing but pure gratitude that Jameson thanked his lucky stars that Louis had become fond enough of him to forgive such sudden bursts of action, and they were able to finish the polishing with plenty of time to make dinner still. It was also with nothing but pure gratitude that Jameson found Miss Penny not feeling as if he'd forgotten in her return letter, and that she was free the following afternoon. Feeling quite relieved with it all resolved, Jameson then spent his evening giving Fred several hugs in thanks for his quick help before heading to bed early.
Dressing to go to Whitechapel without standing out had always been an exercise in facing how different his life had become, but the chilling weather just added to that. While his own clothes were in the style of the lower class, they were still new enough that keeping warm was a simple task, nothing close to the threadbare rags that many clothed themselves in. The moment Jameson could start his charity work, he would assemble a project to hand out as many new clothes as he could to those who needed them, even if he had to fund the whole affair himself.
The thought was so on his mind that, upon entering Miss Penny's office and exchanging hugs and greetings, Jameson was already starting the regular negotiations for improving his contributions to the boarding house. "It would make me feel better," he said, "if you would at least take a bit more so that anyone who needs better clothes for the winter may have them." Even if all they did was give everyone another thin piece of clothing to add to their winter layers, then that would be better than nothing.
Miss Penny shook her head, but it wasn't out of any sense of outright denial. "There you go again," she said with the loving exasperation of a mother. "That mind of yours never stops at trying to find new ways to improve the world around you, now does it?"
"So long as the world has such obvious flaws, I doubt I'll ever stop." It just all began to seem so obvious with each passing day. Why was it that he could live in such comfort while others suffered, couldn't even afford enough to keep themselves from going hungry, from freezing in the cold? "I'm not saying you all need to get luxurious items or anything like that. I haven't forgotten what you said about putting a target on your backs. You don't need to overstock anything. But even if it's just some of you, or if you take a bit extra to keep the fireplaces burning so you can give a safer space, I insist that you take it." Why, oh, why did changing the world for the better need to be such a long and arduous process? "Either you accept the additional money for winter or I give it to Miss Carol and have her handle matters. It's your choice."
When she'd agreed to help him, Jameson was certain Carol hadn't considered forcing money upon her matron to be part of that agreement, but he also didn't think she'd turn the request down. If anything, the way she'd stepped up for both Alice and Evangeline's sakes meant that she was willing to help others, even if they weren't close to her.
And there was Miss Penny's reluctant sigh, the one Jameson was half convinced was more for show than out of any genuine sense of exasperation. "Yes, yes, I'll accept it. We can discuss the specific numbers over lunch." Securing that much was a victory, so Jameson beamed; even if Miss Penny undersold the deal, as usual, it would still be heading in the right direction. "Getting into business right out the gate, though. You don't seem to leave me any time to breathe, do you?"
"Your time is precious, after all. Besides, the sooner we finish our business the sooner we can get to socialising, yes?" After the mad dash it had taken to see each other, he did want some time to relax. But relaxing whenever there was an obvious option to help others right in front of him was rather difficult, so it was best to get whatever else they needed out of the way.
"I won't fault you on that, boy. Just give me a minute an' we can—"
"Miss Penny!" came a whining shout, and Jameson had no time to react as the door burst open, a young boy of about ten spilling inside. Soon after him were a couple of other children, and all three of them were out of breath. "Miss Penny, Sam was being mean again!"
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Calm down everyone," Miss Penny said, offering Jameson an apologetic smile. He waved her on without much concern; it wasn't like he'd come to discuss any pressing matters like a case. "You know the rules for how this works. Without yelling or talking over each other, tell me what happened one at a time."
There was a beat of silence as the children looked to each other to ensure they didn't break the rules, which Jameson could see hadn't changed much since his time in the boarding house: everyone got to tell their story, no matter what; if you interrupted someone else, you'd receive a scolding, regardless of who was at fault for the larger incident at play. Jameson had been much more outgoing in those days, but even he'd learned to wait his turn whenever it was obvious it would be much more trouble to rush to tell his side of the story. Watching the children begin to share their tale, Jameson couldn't help but feel a bit more reminiscent. Despite their closeness, he and Jim had had their fair share of bickering in their youth, just as all young children do, and they'd ended up before Miss Penny more than once.
Thinking back on it was enough for Jameson to wonder what it might've been like to be friends with William and Louis in their youth; he had trouble imagining either of them as very playful children. William would have looked as at home with a book, even in more common clothes, and Louis would've stayed by his brother's side as much as always—or so Jameson imagined. Louis at that age wouldn't have the scar upon his cheek, either, and there was very little way they could've afforded glasses for him while they lived on the streets. But though he couldn't see the brothers having bombastic play sessions like so many other children on their own, Jameson couldn't help but think William would have joined in with whatever was requested of him. Maybe he would even play tiny mediator so conflicts didn't have to go to adult arbiters like Miss Penny in the first place.
While Jameson was in the middle of picturing an unrealistic adventure in which their little group convinced Albert out of the original Moriarty Manor (which, despite his knowing they were altogether different buildings, looked very much like the current Moriarty Manor in Jameson's mind), Miss Penny had seemed to resolved the conflict, Sam and their friend having made peace and challenged each other to a race downstairs.
"Makes ya nostalgic, doesn't it?" Miss Penny asked, a fond smile on her face. "Here, I remember you being just as young as they are, but now you're all grown up. Some things have changed, and in other ways, it's the same as ever."
Jameson offered a sheepish smile. "In that every time I show up, I seem to make a mess of things?"
"If you're aware of it, do try to tone it down." Snorting, Miss Penny patted Jameson on the shoulder. "Well, at least the trouble you're bringing is going to have some good at the end of the line. I wouldn't be doing my job raisin' you if I didn't support you when you needed it most… Oh, that's right." Having remembered something, Miss Penny stepped back around her desk, pulling open a lower drawer and rummaging about for a minute before she popped back up to standing. "Your birthday's coming up, after all. I know it's not much, but…"
Seeing that he'd almost forgotten what month they were in, it was no surprise at all that his own birthday had also slipped from Jameson's mind. It was still a little less than a week off, but it was approaching soon enough. Even if he had remembered, Jameson wouldn't have expected Miss Penny to get him anything, given that he was the one much more capable of giving to her. And yet in her extended hand was a small, hard candy wrapped in a colourful paper, just as he'd gotten every year while he'd still lived at the boarding house.
Expensive presents hadn't been an option for any of them in Whitechapel, and even something as non-essential as candies were far too much of a luxury for day to day life. And yet, without fail, any child under the care of Miss Penny's boarding house would receive a piece of candy for their birthday, all of the women there contributing to the stash whenever it needed replenished. It—in addition to the very small and simple cakes that Mama had made for him—had been some of Jameson's first exposure to sweets, and the flavour lingered in his memory, even all the years since he'd gotten one.
"It's perfect," Jameson said, and he meant it. He could receive nothing else that year, and he would be beyond content. Of course, receiving nothing was not going to be an option if Albert had anything to say about it, but that didn't change just how special the gift was, regardless. Unable to contain himself any longer, Jameson swept up Miss Penny in a hug, pouring all his feelings into that embrace. "Thank you, Miss Penny. For everything."
And Miss Penny hugged him back with every ounce of love and care she had. "Don't mention it, Jameson. Happy birthday."
"Good morning, Jameson. Happy birthday."
Those were the first words Jameson heard upon awakening several days later, but it wasn't his still lingering drowsiness that made the sentiment hard to process. Being greeted with William's gentle voice and a soft kiss upon the temple had become enough of a norm not to consider odd anymore, the sensation almost normal, but the words that came after it—
My birthday.
His, and no one else's.
It would've felt like a dream, were it not for the fact that Jameson didn't think he'd dreamt about such a thing in any such capacity before, save for when he was a child. Those birthdays weren't anything extravagant, but Jameson had appreciated what he did receive, nonetheless. His mother would even take that day off, spending all the time with him that she could, and November eleventh had been nothing but joy during those years.
And then, November eleventh had just been nothing, another day Jameson attempted to survive, though he'd never mourned the loss.
And then, his life had changed again, and the one way to understand what November eleventh would be from then on out was to greet the day and see what it had in store.
Jameson found that upon waking up that he felt content enough with such a simple greeting, and if the day were like every other day before it, then he would have been happy.
Albert James Moriarty, as he so often did, had other plans.
It had been months since that initial conversation back in February, upon which they'd exchanged birthdates. Jameson was so used to treating his birthday as another day he hadn't thought to bring it up—and he suspected he wouldn't have brought it up even if he had remembered.
Albert James Moriarty had not forgotten.
Albert James Moriarty had also not held back in any restraint.
Jameson should have expected as much. After all, though he'd missed Louis's birthday celebration, he'd been present for William and Albert's alike. But even so, Jameson had thought—and it had been quite the naïve thought at that—the extravagance in those celebrations had been because Albert was celebrating his brother and then himself. Spending much time on the situation seemed natural, and Jameson's own eventual promised celebration would be much smaller in scale.
One might think that after knowing Albert for ten months, I would know better.
But, no, Jameson had underestimated him in full. Already, Louis had refused to let him into the kitchen, and the dining room—where Jameson had headed next to wait for breakfast—had been decorated in full. Jameson had anticipated as such for dinner, but even the dishware suggested celebration, not to mention the stack of presents already having overtaken the side table, and Albert's smug smile suggested he knew very well what he had done.
"Don't look at me as if you wish to complain," Albert said, heading off the complaint that Jameson was very much in the process of formulating. Upon further consideration, it was more of a protest, but the general energy was enough the same that it didn't seem worth debating the matter. "Today is a special day, Jameson, and all the more so because it's the first birthday you are having as part of our family. It would be rude not to give you the same level of celebration that we give ourselves."
Hoping for at least some assistance regarding a potential compromise, Jameson glanced to William, who offered his own apologetic smile. "No luck here, dearest. I'm afraid I agree with Brother, as does Louis; you deserve at least this much from us. In fact, it was I that requested everyone's help in creating a day that you wouldn't be able to forget anytime soon."
Being as indulgent as he was, it wasn't all that much of a surprise that William had joined in, but Louis as well? A simple glance was all the answer Jameson needed, though, Louis offering an uncharacteristic yet apologetic smile. "I understand your feelings on the matter, Jameson," Louis said, "but even I know whenever there's a battle I am incapable of winning." Meaning that it would be impossible to convince Albert otherwise, and so Louis had decided to play along. "Today is a day of celebration for you, and so you are to also refrain from any housework. If it concerns you that much, you should make up that work tomorrow."
Et tu, Louis? Jameson had thought he could at least count on Louis as an ally, which would have made the debate a much fairer two-on-two, but it seemed he had underestimated just how powerful Albert's enthusiasm was. "While I have no opposition to resting, that doesn't mean that you all need to celebrate me to such an extent—"
"Why not?" The question had not come from any of the Moriarty brothers, but instead Fred, who looked to Jameson with a genuine sense of confusion. "You're generous, Jameson. You gave me so much when I arrived here, and I know you're also giving to your family back at Whitechapel, too. I don't think there's anything wrong with having a day to yourself…and I also wanted to show you my appreciation, so this is the perfect opportunity to do it. Right?"
And then Fred looked at him with those eyes. His features weren't puppy-like enough to warrant such a comparison, but the boy did have a way of breaking through Jameson's every defences.
He didn't need to be a master strategist to understand there was no way to escape such a perfect pincer attack.
"Very well," he said, and Fred's expression brightened in an instant. "I shall allow it. However, I have one essential condition in exchange."
While he'd been forbidden from handling any chores for the day, Jameson had managed to negotiate on one matter: that he would make his own birthday cake. Give him that, and he wouldn't argue with any other restrictions or celebrations throughout the day, to which Albert and the others agreed. Jameson knew he hadn't even come close to balancing out the scales, but it was still a victory, and so he headed to the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, put on an apron, pulled out the recipe card he'd copied down, and kept his hands busy.
If he were asked, Jameson would find himself hard pressed to try and choose a favourite dessert for himself. Cakes had wonderful texture, while whenever you got the perfect combination of crust to filling in a pie, it was immaculate. Once you expanded your choices even further to sweets such as biscuits, tarts, scones, puddings, and more, it became impossible to narrow such options down. He even had a difficult time picking out specific flavours, since they all had their own charm. In most situations, such indecision was not an issue, but it felt like when it came to his birthday he should at the very least make a preferred cake.
He'd spent time flipping through recipe books before landing upon one that sounded the slightest bit more delicious than the others in the moment: a lemon cake, complete with a jelly filling. They hadn't quite had all the ingredients, but that didn't stop William from going out to procure the rest, meaning that Jameson just had to get started.
What he hadn't expected of all things was for Albert to join him.
"I promise I haven't come to interrupt you," he said upon Jameson's suspicious look. Given that Louis hadn't let Jameson into the kitchen until the dishes were done so he wouldn't sneak in any chores, Jameson thought his scepticism was justified. "After all, I'm also a fan of your cakes, so it wouldn't do me any good to stop you from preparing one."
Jameson's general feeling of pride at making good sweets added to his brightening mood. "Then whatever are you here for?" Jameson had almost never seen Albert in the kitchen, which Louis had informed him was due to his eldest brother's general inability to cook anything edible (though Albert seemed oblivious to this fact).
Albert smiled, looking pleased that Jameson had asked. "I was hoping to try my hand at making you something. The cake can be your arena, but whoever decided that there could be but one dessert at the birthday celebration?" Part of Jameson felt apprehensive about the prospect of Albert baking, but he also couldn't deny his own desire to enjoy more sweets. While similar, baking and cooking did have their distinct differences, so perhaps Albert would excel at the former while he failed at the latter? "It is, of course, up to you, Jameson. It's your birthday, after all."
"I believe we can come to an agreement on those terms." After all, if Jameson was to be working hard at making the cake, it wasn't as if they'd be without dessert in the event that Albert's efforts were for nothing. And on the chance that Albert was successful? Then they'd have two desserts, just as Albert promised, and the celebration would be all the better for it. "I've already gotten out everything I need for the cake, so no need to worry about taking ingredients from me."
It was a serviceable enough arrangement, and the size of the kitchen meant that the two of them could get to work without getting in each other's ways. With the sound of Albert pulling out ingredients, baking cups, and whatever other tools he needed. Jameson had thought it would be difficult to not snoop to ruin the surprise, but, once he got to work on his own creation, the process consumed him, the familiar combination of the ingredients pulling him into a wonderful state of flow. In fact, he thought nothing more of his company aside from the fact that there was someone else to step around on occasion until an extra set of footsteps approached before coming to an abrupt stop in the doorway.
"Brother," Louis said with an unusual level of concern in his tone, "what are you doing in here?"
Albert offered a bright smile that was so at odds with his brother's current expression that Jameson couldn't help but snort. "I wanted to make something special for the occasion as well. I thought that Jameson might appreciate trying the crème brûlée that Maestro Jack taught me to make."
Some of the tension drained from Louis's shoulders, but it would still be a far cry to call him relieved by any sense of the word. "I suppose if it's that, then it should be fine… I will need to start teatime preparations, though, so be sure to be careful with all of us moving about in here. Jameson, how are things for you?"
"I'm just about done with the batter, so I should be good to bake soon. Then I'll be making the glaze." The lemons he'd picked out were on the side, along with the recipe card he'd been referencing. "Other than that, I'll just need to tidy up my space, and then I should be able to get out of your way."
"I can handle the cleanup for you," Albert said in an instant. A quick glance at his workstation revealed that there wasn't even a droplet of mixture out of place, whereas Jameson had gotten flour and juice everywhere. Even the tools Albert had finished with were already washed and drying by the sink, whereas Jameson had tossed everything into his mixing bowl to be handled while things were baking and he needed to pass the time. "Now, now, I doubt you would say that the cleanup is among the things you enjoy about baking, would you?"
"I wouldn't, but—"
"But it's your birthday," Louis said, "and on our birthdays, we don't allow for doing anything that could be considered work." To prove the point, he picked up Jameson's collection of dirty dishes and moved them out of immediate reach. "Focus on the baking, Jameson. We'll handle the rest. Besides, you don't want to be holed up in the kitchen while you have company over, do you?"
"Company?" Jameson had gotten so used to his homebody existence after the end of the social season that no one sprang to mind right away. He hadn't sent out any invitations of the sort, that was for certain—and then it clicked for him. "Evangeline came to visit?"
Albert nodded, revealing he was the one who'd thought to invite her in the first place. "She was excited, but also frustrated that you didn't give her more warning about preparing for your birthday." Jameson thought, that in all the excitement of making Evangeline's previous identity vanish without a trace, he could be forgiven for not wanting to make things about himself. "We also extended invitations to Miss Penny, Miss Alice, Miss Carol, and Paterson, but it seemed they all had other obligations. They do all send their well wishes, though." In other words, Albert had stopped at nothing to ensure that Jameson had a day that he could remember for a long time to come. Hell, he'd already accomplished as much, and they hadn't even gotten to the actual party yet.
"You spoil me," Jameson said, unable to contain the smile slipping upon his lips.
"Ah, but you see," Albert said with great relish, "that is altogether the point."
"There you are!" Evangeline said as Jameson made his way into the parlour. She'd settled down there with Fred, their conversation stalling out at Jameson's arrival. Fred didn't seem to mind, offering Jameson a wave. "Lord Louis told me that you were in the kitchen, despite it being your birthday. Not that I'm all that surprised that you'd want to make your own cake."
"Can you blame me? I consider it to be more fun than work." Not to mention he wanted to see everyone's reactions to the recipe he'd worked hard on. Besides, with everyone giving to him, giving back just a little seemed just fair. "Is this the part where I apologise to you for not mentioning that my birthday was today?"
"I shall forgive you so long as the cake is wonderful, which I know it shall be. Next year, I'll have the opportunity to be much more prepared. Now, come and sit down with us. We were just talking about how the greenhouse has been prepared for your party." Getting ushered into a seat, Jameson gave Evangeline a curious look, and she held a secretive finger to her lips. "Now, now, we're not going to ruin the surprise. You just need to focus on relaxing. Did your baking go well?"
Jameson nodded, the smell still fresh in his nostrils. "It looked good. I had to hold myself back from trying some before we could all share together." He had, on the other hand, swiped up some of the leftover lemon glaze for himself, and it had come out better than expected. "I hope you'll all like it."
"I'm sure it'll be delicious," Fred said, which was about all the reassurance Jameson needed.
"Thank you—now what's this about you doing something to the greenhouse for today?" As predicted, Fred chose not to answer, keeping the secret. "Well, whatever you did, thank you for it. I'll admit that I wasn't prepared for much of a party…" Albert was one thing, but everyone had come together to celebrate him. It was unexpected, but it still felt nice.
Maybe…I can start to get used to this?
The thought was one that Jameson didn't have it in himself to argue against. The conversation soon turned to seeing how Evangeline was settling down into her new home, and it seemed she'd managed to find a cook to stop by to help with meals, and she'd also gotten several pieces of her garden supplies delivered, so that had already been taking up her time. Fred was plenty interested, while Jameson was just glad to hear that things were going well, even if it hadn't even been a full fortnight since they'd gotten her settled.
"Jameson." It was William's voice that interrupted, catching Jameson's attention in an instant. Whenever they looked to each other, William smiled, and Jameson considered that one of the greatest gifts of all, being able to witness such a thing. "Apologies for interrupting," he said, crossing the room to offer Jameson a hand, helping him to his feet. "I'm sure you're all having a wonderful chat, but Louis has said that everything is ready, so it's time to bring in our guest of honour."
Jameson chuckled. "You make it sound so dramatic."
"I believe it's fitting. Today's the day that you were brought into the world for us." William hooked his arm through Jameson's, the perfect escort though they weren't going anywhere besides the backyard. "You feel the same whenever we celebrated the rest of us, yes? We feel the same about celebrating you."
"Lord William is right," Evangeline said, and Fred nodded behind her. "I know for my part, my life wouldn't be anywhere close to the same if it weren't for you, Jameson. So please let us do at least this much, alright?"
There was nothing that Jameson could say to argue against that, so he instead allowed himself to be taken to the backyard, Evangeline and Fred trailing behind them, William's warmth pressed close to Jameson's side. While being close to him always felt incredible, there was something special in particular about being able to have that closeness while in front of others, no matter how small the number.
Going to the greenhouse couldn't be a surprise, but the state of it was another matter. Nothing too drastic had changed about the flowerbeds and pots themselves, but they had hauled a bigger table into the centre, surrounded by enough chairs for them all. The table itself contained a full afternoon tea spread, with the sandwiches, scones, fruits, and more, with Jameson's self-made cake being the main attraction. One couldn't have just the treats, though, and fresh tea had been brewed, Jameson's personalised lotus tea set being used. Just the sight of that alone was perfect enough, but with his new family all around, Jameson felt even more grateful than he had at any point in the past year.
Such peaceful moments filled with joy—he was allowed to have at least a little, wasn't he?
"Jameson," William said, drawing him from his thoughts, "happy birthday."
Followed by the others all chiming in: "Happy birthday!"
And though it wasn't his first time hearing those words, Jameson was certain that was the utterance he would remember the most whenever he thought back on that day.
As a hypothetical, even if Jameson had been involved in the planning of his own party, he didn't think he would have picked anything else other than having afternoon tea with his loved ones. The tea was incredible, the sweets were delicious, and having everyone nearby was wonderful enough. Add in that the cake had come out even better than Jameson could have imagined, along with Albert's crème brûlée coming out well, Jameson felt himself going back for seconds, then thirds, even if his stomach was on the verge of bursting.
And then of course there were the presents.
Albert's stack had not been for show, and he'd indulged as much as possible, leaving Evangeline to giggle at the display. None of it was unappreciated, though, from new clothes to new books and even a whole new tea set with a bundle of irises painted upon the side. Jameson held it up to the light, able to see the shadow of his fingers through the delicate chinaware, and each and every brushstroke was delicate to a breathtaking degree.
"You think I haven't noticed that you've taken an interest in dishware?" Albert asked, looking rather smug for his efforts. "You've been putting effort into matching what you serve to teatime with the pot and cups, not to mention anytime we bring out a new set of flatware for dinner, you tend to spend more time looking at it than participating in the conversation." It was one thing for Albert to pick up on Jameson's efforts to coordinate what he was doing in afternoon tea, but Jameson himself hadn't even noticed that his conversation suffered on occasion. "So I custom ordered you a new set. Feel free to use it to start building a proper collection for yourself."
"I don't think I need to go so far as to make a whole collection…" Jameson said. And yet the cups were lovely, the deep purple sure to look enticing with black tea inside, and Jameson was almost ready to get up and brew a pot that very instant. Not to mention protesting to Albert over something that was rather harmless wouldn't do any good. "If you're going to insist, you may buy me one for my birthday and Christmas. Any more than that and we'll run the manor over with dishes…"
Albert chuckled. "I'll admit I was expecting you to just say once a year, so I'll take you up on that offer." Ah, Jameson had overestimated where Albert would be willing to compromise. Well, it could have been much worse. "I'll have to start thinking of ideas for Christmas soon, then. But just to make sure, this is to your liking, yes?"
"It is." While it seemed dangerous to outright admit something that could bolster Albert's spending habits, Jameson had already put a limiter in place, so lying would accomplish nothing. Instead, he plucked up one of the cups to admire it closer. "Oh," he said upon noticing the seal on the bottom, "this is from the same artisan that made the set I ordered for myself."
"You seemed to enjoy his work, so I thought it was fitting." Jameson very much had, using his first custom tea set as much as possible, and now he would have another to switch out as he liked. "I'll have to get started on looking for a suitable set for Christmas as well, then."
Louis sighed. "If you're going to go that far, you should at least start with ordering another cabinet to store all of these in." Albert looked thoughtful, and Louis used that opportunity to move on with the gifts, passing on his own package. "If you'd like."
Thanking him, Jameson continued on. Louis had gone ahead and picked out some additional baking pans that Jameson could use for his endeavours, while Evangeline had found a set of jade-encrusted cufflinks shaped like flower buds. Fred, in reference to Jameson's own gift the month before, had picked out a scarf that matched the soft, mint green of Jameson's favourite ribbon tie. Jameson thanked them all, then turned to William, who offered a small, rectangular package that, upon opening, was another leather-bound journal in the same deep red as Jameson's current one.
"You've been using it a lot, haven't you?" William asked, and Jameson nodded; he was almost through all the pages, turning to it whenever he needed. "Now you don't need to worry about getting another. You'll have one waiting for you when you're done." Jameson drew his fingers over the cover, thinking about the promise of blank pages inside, of stories that had yet to be told. "I debated getting you a different design, but instead I went for the same, so I hope it's to your liking."
"Of course it is." Every last gift was wonderful, a reflection of the people who all cared for Jameson and wanted to express it. "I appreciate every last thing you all have done for me. I know I've already said it, but I want to make sure you all know that." Even just thinking about where he'd been the year before, Jameson was struck with just how beyond lucky he was, and words would never be enough to express that gratitude. "I mean it, for everything, not just this. I appreciate you all so much."
"Hold on a moment, Jameson. We're not done yet." Jameson shouldn't have been shocked in the slightest to hear that Albert had something else in mind, but Jameson was starting to reach the limit of what kindness he could accept. "Now, now, no need to look so exasperated. This last one is a gift from the three of us." Sure enough, William and Louis were right behind their brother, and Albert reached into his jacket to pull out one last box.
In comparison to everything else, it was small, the rectangular shape far too thin to be a book. In fact, the width was about half the size of that, the compact shape not unlike what one might find in a jewellery box. That the Moriarty Brothers might all come together to get him some sort of custom accessory seemed reasonable enough, so Jameson undid the ribbon holding the box together and pulled off the lid while the others watched with anticipation.
The contents were not, in fact, a piece of jewellery.
They were, instead, a single key.
Further, it was a key Jameson recognised, not from holding it himself, but from watching the Moriarty brothers use it themselves.
A key to Moriarty Manor.
"You've been with us for quite some time," Albert was saying, though Jameson could hear but half of the words. "In fact, whenever we talked about your birthday coming up, we all agreed that this was the best option."
"All things considered, we should've given one to you sooner," Louis said. "It would've been practical given how much more you've been coming and going these days."
"Even so, your birthday is the perfect time to gift you one," William said. Still feeling stunned, Jameson raised his hands to accept the key, the weight of it sinking into his palms as Albert let go. "This is your home just as much as it is ours, Jameson. You should be able to come and go as you please, just as we do."
All things considered, it shouldn't have been all that special. After all, Jameson had had plenty of freedom since the end of spring, and the Moriarty brothers had all been accommodating to him whenever he'd needed to venture out on his own. It was also true that he'd been a ward of the family since the beginning of the year. But to receive a key to their home on his birthday, as a sign that he was one of them in every possible way.
"Thank you." Oh, he hadn't even noticed he had teared up, and already the hot droplets were spilling down his cheeks. Jameson, having no wish to stop them, made no move to wipe them away. Instead, he just repeated the words of gratitude with the key clutched to his chest, each and every groove upon its metal surface pressing into his palms and attempting to convey the same message:
You belong here.
Whenever William, soon followed by his brothers, Fred, and Evangeline, stepped forward to embrace Jameson in a collective hug, he relished in the feeling until his tears at last stopped, replaced with a grin wide enough to make his cheeks hurt.
Whenever Jameson's tears had stopped flowing and he'd blown out the entire contents of his nose, they'd gotten back to the party, which was for the most part chatting, in the end moving back inside the house proper and teaching Fred how to play a couple of card games (for how neutral his expression was most of the time, he still had some difficulty keeping up with the rules). To close everything off, they had one last pot of herbal tea, Evangeline yawning and retreating to her guest room first. Fred had long since fallen asleep in a chair, so Jameson tucked a blanket around him while Louis, Albert, and William worked on tidying everything else up.
"I'm sure Albert will chase me out of the kitchen after too long," William murmured to Jameson as he snuck a kiss against his temple. "I'll be in bed soon enough, so feel free to make yourself as comfortable as you like."
As there was no point in attempting to hide his intentions from his brothers, William didn't bother, allowing a seductive purr to slip into his words. Jameson's responding blush was almost immediate, that pretty colour sneaking onto his cheeks and neck as he nodded. "Don't make me wait too long," Jameson whispered back, and it took no small amount of self-control for William to peel himself away and start to work on cleaning things up, thoughts of Jameson sticking with him all the while.
By the time they arrived at the kitchen, Jameson would already be sofa their rooms. While William filled the sink, Jameson would be relaxing, either lounging on the bed or couch. What state would he be in whenever William at last made it to him? Would he still be dressed, waiting to be stripped, or would he have taken the matter onto himself, revealing that freckled skin in anticipation of William's touch upon him? Would he be in partial dress to tease, or would he be bare in his entirety? Would he remain chaste, or would he already be pleasuring himself whenever William opened the door; would he have already pulled out the Vaseline to stretch himself to take William at a moment's notice?
William grit his teeth in an attempt to contain himself, gripping onto the plate that had almost slipped from his fingers. He was able to catch it before it crashed against the bottom of the sink, at least. The last thing he needed was a broken dish and an injury distracting him from where he wanted to be in that very moment.
"Are you doing alright, Will?" Albert asked, the tone of his voice making it beyond clear that he knew William wasn't alright—or, rather, he could be much, much better than his current state. "You don't have to push yourself to stay here if you don't want. I'm certain Jameson is awaiting whatever additional presents you have in mind for him."
Oh, William had presents in mind, ones he'd spent no small amount of time debating, and even then, in the last free moments, he had yet to make a precise decision. It would be fine, considering that he also wanted Jameson's input, as there was no point in following a pre-determined strategy should Jameson wish for something else in particular. Where would he want to be taken, in what manner of dress, how many times—?
"Brother," Louis said in his driest possible voice, "if you're not going to be able to concentrate, I think it's best if you retire for the night."
Sure enough, a look at the clock showed that near fifteen minutes had passed and William hadn't even gotten halfway through the dishes. "Apologies," William said, and he meant it. "It seems today has been a long day, and I've lost my ability to focus. I'll be sure to help out more tomorrow with putting the greenhouse back into place, so allow me to turn in for the night." Not that there would be much sleep for him in the future, but it would clear his mind of immediate distraction.
He hoped it would clear his mind of immediate distraction, or else he would have a much greater problem on his hands.
Albert looked beyond delighted by the request, and he was but an outside observer. "Go right ahead, Will. Louis and I are more than capable of taking care of things here." Albert gave William a supportive pat upon the arm before moving his brother out of the way to take his place at the sink. "Do both enjoy yourselves, alright?"
There wasn't much more that William could do than offer an awkward word of thanks and dry off his hands, rolling down his sleeves as he went. Knowing what would become of it, he didn't bother to put his jacket back on, instead draping it over the crook of his arm as he headed upstairs, the now unhindered thoughts of Jameson filling his mind. The night was still young, and William had a decent amount of energy left in him, so his last duty for the day was to make sure every last desire of Jameson's wound up fulfilled.
Whenever he arrived to their rooms, though, William was surprised to find Jameson waiting upon the couch, still in full dress—though there was that faint squirm to his movements that plenty indicated the state he was in. "William," he said, looking up with a hopeful tint to his gaze, and William was determined to do anything and everything for him, then and there. "Did the cleanup go well?"
"About as well as it could while I'm in such a state of mind." William crossed the room, draping his jacket over the back of the first chair he passed, not stopping until Jameson was before him. The latter had stood up the moment William was near, and they fell into an embrace. "My own eagerness to come and pleasure you meant that I wasn't much help at all, I'm afraid. They chased me out."
Jameson spluttered out a laugh, looking so joyful at the concept William couldn't help but feel as if he'd never seen the other man look so beautiful. "Goodness," Jameson said, already drawing circles upon William's chest with his fingertips, "I didn't think I'd affected you so without even needing to do anything."
"You always affect me so. Most of the time I'm just better at hiding it from others." On such a day, though, the effort had seemed a moot point. William lowered his head for a chaste kiss, but even that held enough of a spark in its midst that the tension between them grew, stirring up for an even greater storm. "I think it's rather pointless to hide something such as that whenever we both know how this night will be going, do we not?"
"Oh, do we?" Jameson had donned his sly look of seduction, and already he was pulling William's tie loose at a slow, crawling pace that had no sense of urgency to it whatsoever. "I know for a fact that I am going to take you to bed, William, but I'm afraid we haven't agreed upon any of the particulars. Whatever might you have been thinking about doing to me, darling?"
If that was the game they were playing, then perhaps William wouldn't have it in him to be able to help in the morning, after all.
"I will admit that I have been thinking long and hard about how to best help you enjoy yourself on your birthday," William said, brushing some of Jameson's bangs away, giving him a much clearer look at those jade eyes he enjoyed so much. "Of course, if you have any particular requests, I will follow them without hesitation. But just in case, I have been saving an idea just for today, dearest." After all, Jameson did often find satisfaction in having William take the lead, so he'd wanted to be prepared for the eventuality. It was the least he could do after Jameson had made sure to follow William's each and every request during his own celebrations in spring.
"Oh? Now you've gotten me curious." Jameson had started to amuse himself with plucking apart William's waistcoat buttons, one by one, and his other hand was in the middle of tracing the shape of William's hairline against the back of his neck. "All I had in mind was that I wanted to enjoy you as many times as possible. If you've saved something just for this occasion, I cannot even think of turning it down."
"Then I believe that's settled." William shifted his expression to his most seductive appearance, and Jameson's breath caught in in an instant. A swallow worked its way down his throat, and William had every intention of leaving whatever marks Jameson would allow him to in the process. "I'd like not to rush this time, though. I plan to undress you until you're bare—permit me to savour it."
"Y-yes." If Jameson was already stammering without them having done much more than talk, what sort of state would he be in once William had driven him to complete overstimulation and senselessness? He looked forward to it with gusto, though he did his best to contain himself for the time being. Jameson deserved the absolute best every day, and on his birthday in particular, and that involved building him up with every last bit of care William could muster. "I'm trusting myself to you, William."
"You honour me each and every time you do." William took another kiss, at last adding his tongue to the equation in a slow, swirling exploration of Jameson's mouth. Jameson let him in, sipping his tongue around William's at the same lazy pace, though there was already a deep hunger in his movements. William slipped his hands beneath Jameson's jacket, easing it off his shoulders and onto the couch behind him. From there, William began a massage of Jameson's shoulders, his arms, feeling the muscle of biceps that had begun to form. "You've been working hard, you know. I can feel the difference, Jameson."
"You can? Just by touch?"
"I can. It's a marked difference from where you were months ago. Gradual practise does bring results, after all." William gave Jameson's biceps another squeeze, the hardness of muscles impossible to ignore. Knowing full well the effects his praise would have, William didn't let up in the slightest. "Your efforts have been more than worthwhile, and I'm sure you'll keep up the results in the future."
Jameson nodded, looking thoughtful as William got started on undoing Jameson's buttons in turn. "Do you like it, then?" Jameson asked, the faintest flushes of embarrassment colouring his face. "I mean, since it makes me feel different than before…"
"Do you like it? The way you've changed?"
Jameson took a moment before humming in affirmation. "It makes me feel like I've gotten stronger. I like it a lot."
"Then so long as you like it, that's what matters." Even with William shrugging off his waistcoat, Jameson pouted, and William couldn't resist a responding chuckle. "Of course I like it, dearest. The way you look, the way you feel… Even if that changes, so long as it's you, I could never be dissatisfied with what you have to offer." With a few more movements, Jameson's upper layers tumbled off him, and William's gaze roved over the freckled skin, the more toned shape of his muscles. "You are, in every possible iteration of yourself, delectable."
The resulting shudder was just as William had been aiming for, and he took another kiss while starting to undo the clip that held Jameson's chest bindings together. With that gone and added to the pile of clothes upon the couch, the fabric slipped, leaving a pattern of exposed and hidden skin that was beyond compelling. Not one to be outdone, Jameson had also gotten William's waistcoat off, and that soft, hot mouth was kissing at the exposed skin of his chest, leaving the occasional bite against his collarbone, the teasing tug of teeth against his nipple.
William groaned, knowing full well it wouldn't take too much longer to get him to proper arousal. From the glint in Jameson's eyes, he was already there, and William wasted no time in tucking his hand between Jameson's legs, fingers rubbing at him through his trousers. Jameson released a gasp and clutched at whatever he could find, which just so happened to make him scratch across William's abdominal muscles just right. He looked up to William, his expression torn between wanting to see the foreplay to its fullest extent and outright on the verge of begging for more.
Either way served William just fine.
He leaned in, his voice a tempting whisper against Jameson's ear. "It's your birthday, dearest. Whatever you want, all you need to do is ask." William would obey without objection, would give him whatever he pleased, over and over until Jameson was satisfied or could no longer request a thing, whichever came first.
"Bed," Jameson answered after a brief moment of contemplation. "If we keep this up, standing is going to become difficult for the both of us, and I'd like to be as comfortable as possible whenever that happens." It wasn't outright a request to rush the process, but it was setting the stage, falling into a happy medium for both of their preferences.
"Very well. I have no objections." Jameson began to move, but William was faster, bending down at the knees and sweeping Jameson up into his arms in an instant. Jameson's sound of surprise soon turned to one of laughter, and he used his newfound position to pull William down into a kiss while he walked them to the bedroom. Their lips didn't part until William sat Jameson upon the edge of the bed, and William dropped one more kiss atop his head before standing up, his hands going for his own belt.
Rapt at attention, Jameson watched as William undid his buckle and then proceeded to make a show of shedding his lower layers, one by one. First went the belt, then the slacks, then the socks, finishing with the undershorts beneath it all. Jameson's eyes followed William's arousal with a flicker of the tongue across his lips that was hard to tell if it had been on purpose or subconscious, and then Jameson's gaze rose up to meet his partner's as William was in the midst of starting to shrug off his button-down to leave himself bare.
"Keep it," Jameson said, and William stilled. Jameson reached out, tracing William's muscles, going down his stomach, hipbone, and thigh, before wandering back again. "You look wonderful no matter what state of dress or undress you're in. I think I'd like to appreciate you this way tonight."
"As I promised, whatever you like." It was no great concern to him, either way. Catching Jameson's hand in his own, William raised it to his lips, kissing each single fingertip in turn. "That said, I assume you're going to wish for yourself to be in a much more revealed state."
"Of course. I do intend to have you deep inside me, after all." The mention of where they were headed was enough to make William's penis twitch closer to full attention, and the lust in Jameson's gaze was more than obvious. "Would you care to do the honours of—how did you put it? Undress me until I'm bare?"
William let out a faint growl that sent gooseflesh forming on every last exposed inch of Jameson's skin. "I've been waiting for you to ask."
It was becoming clearer and clearer that, each and every time that they indulged in each other, William was having a harder time convincing himself to keep under careful control. Oh, he could tease whenever he was in the mood to do so, but just as often he was becoming in the mood to rush to the moment whenever he and Jameson became joined together. But for his birthday—if not also every other night and day of the year—Jameson deserved the absolute best in everything, and so William kept himself under control as he began the process of relieving Jameson of his trousers.
The sight was, as always, immaculate, William unable to resist the urge of kissing down those thighs as he went. Jameson's breath fluttered at the contact, and the faint scent of his arousal was even more tempting than usual. Perhaps it wouldn't be a poor idea to feast upon him at some point in the evening, maybe even a final orgasm whenever William's body had drained itself dry, but he himself was still capable of bringing Jameson the utmost pleasure.
"You've got that look on your face that you make whenever you're deep in thought," Jameson said, able to identify such a state with little more than a glance after so long. "Are you thinking more about your plans for me this night, my darling?"
"I am. You have my assurances that all my thoughts at the moment are about you." Even outside of the present moment, Jameson was crossing William's thoughts with increased frequency, and it seemed just as probable that such a thing would continue for the foreseeable future. "As for the particulars of what's on my mind… the a new position I've been saving is one where I can handle all the hard work and you can just enjoy yourself."
It may not have been his birthday, but William could want nothing more than Jameson clinging to him with everything he had, crying out in the utmost pleasure until the light of dawn.
Jameson was beyond on edge, his thighs pressing against each other in a vain attempt to give him the satisfaction he so craved. Adorable. Even more so was the way he looked to William, desire shining off of every part of him. "Are you planning on leaving me in suspense much longer about this surprise of yours?"
"I believe I could be convinced to get to the grand reveal." Which was to say, William was already ready himself, every last gasp and groan Jameson had released enough to pull William to a full erection. His mind made up, William moved to sit upon the edge of the bed, patting one of his own thighs in an indication of where Jameson should go. Jameson moved to straddle him in an instant, using his temporary height advantage to gaze down upon William with such precision that it sent a shiver down his spine. Making sure they'd have enough space, William scooted until the backs of his knees were flush with the corner of the mattress, and then he spread his own legs wide, creating a perfect hole where Jameson could soon rest. "Permission to move you, dearest?" William asked, his hands alighting upon Jameson's hips.
"Permission granted."
The time it took to set up the position seemed to be far too long, even if William was acting with as much efficiency as possible. First there was the matter of tucking Jameson into the place open for him. This left Jameson's legs bent with his feet resting upon the mattress, and his arms went around William's shoulders to keep him steady. From there, William lifted Jameson so as he could move their bodies together, pushing inside Jameson's wetness and warmth with little resistance and the first of what William intended to be many moans for the night.
In an attempt to regain his composure, Jameson swallowed, his hands already splayed against William's chest. "A-are you certain you don't want me to mov—"
The inquiry vanished in a moment as William lifted Jameson's legs up, his thighs pressed to William's sides and his calves almost parallel with the bed beneath them. Combining the adjustment with pressing as close as he could, Jameson had little room to do much more than moan his pleasure, his nails scratching over William's collarbone and pectorals. William couldn't speak from experience on the receiving end for their current position, but he felt confident the novel angle must have made a significant difference in the pressure inside Jameson, and it was one he was happy to experience.
"My dearest, do remember that today is about you," William said, revelling in the sensation of Jameson holding tight to him, his inner walls squeezing in the most delectable sensation. "I did say I wished to handle the hard work while you enjoy the result. Does that sound fair?" By making a shallow thrust, he could guarantee a nod from Jameson, and William kissed his neck as a reward. "Excellent. Now, tell me, Jameson, is this to your liking?"
"God, yes." William set a simple pace, not wishing to overwhelm Jameson just yet. That would be for later, whenever he drove Jameson to ecstasy over and over again. "Please, William, I want to feel more."
"As you wish."
William took simple thrusts, both to get used to the current angle and to confirm that Jameson was still enjoying himself. It took no more than a look at his face to confirm that pleasure was true, though that was assuming one didn't hear the moans first, which was an impossible task. Jameson clung to William tight, his eyes already lidded from the pleasure, and William gripped to Jameson's thigh to better maintain their position as he picked up speed.
The sensation was divine for William, and every moan that sprung forth from Jameson's lips seemed to imply that he felt the same. He was tight and wet enough at any rate, so that every movement William made was beyond delectable—and yet he couldn't call himself satisfied yet. Something about Jameson made him want more, made him wish to keep their bodies connected all the way to the dawn's light and even beyond. If Jameson wished for such a thing, William would take no issue with providing every single thing he could muster.
"Darling," Jameson moaned, gripping to William tight enough that his nails were biting marks into William's skin. "Oh, darling, please—"
"Please?"
"M-more."
"More?" The word was unmistakable, but William could admit he felt at a bit of a loss. He adjusted his palm on Jameson's back, his other hand squeezing at Jameson's thigh to remind his partner that he was there as he continued to move. "Apologies, dearest, but I'm already all the way inside. I'm not sure what more I can give you from here." He would, of course, do his best to fulfil whatever request Jameson made of him, but that one was a bit more complicated given their current state. Harder, yes; faster, of course; but more?
"Please," Jameson said, and William had not the slightest clue of how, but he would do it, as soon as he figured out the logistics. "I just…don't want to stop. I want to keep going." Jameson gripped harder onto William's bicep, and there would doubtless be bruises leftover in the morning, but that concern paled in comparison to the next request to leave Jameson's lips:
"I want to be made yours."
William's already impressive levels of desire soared even higher, and he crushed their mouths together, his pace becoming more erratic as he gave every last bit of himself over to Jameson, who was growing ever tighter, almost to the point that moving was a struggle—but it was a delicious struggle, without a doubt. Underneath William's palm, the muscles in Jameson's thigh spasmed with delight, and his following pleased laughter mixing in with the rest of his high-pitched sounds of satisfaction was too much to handle, so much that he worried he was pushing too far.
"Jameson," he said, though it came out much more like a groan than an actual address. William tried again. "Jameson. Do you remember the word, dear?"
There was a stretch of no response that felt like an eternity, but at last it seemed to click in Jameson's mind what William was asking. "Mmhmm."
"Do you need it?"
"No." Jameson spoke with much more confidence than William had expected him to muster in his current position, and William adored him all the more for it. "No, no, I don't need the word, please, William—"
"No need to worry, dear. 'I want to be made yours,' was it?" Jameson moaned in affirmation, his grasp increasing all the more, his nails stinging as they near carved into William's shoulders while Jameson rocked to his rhythm. Neither of them made any move to stop. "What a coincidence, Jameson," William said, his pleased chuckle slipping into his voice as he purred right into Jameson's ear, "I want to make you mine."
Jameson orgasmed with a whine, though his ensuing moans were so familiar that William knew better than to stop, even as there was an additional wetness on his fingers playing with Jameson's clitoris as he ejaculated with his orgasm. For all that they'd enjoyed each other's bodies, William had never seen Jameson have such a reaction, and, judging by the following whimpers, Jameson hadn't, either. "A-aah, darling—"
"Is that your first time having such a release?" It took a bit of a well-trained ear to tell the difference between Jameson's sounds of pleasure and his mmhmm of affirmation, but, well—William had plenty of experience in such matters, now didn't he? "Do you dislike it?" William felt confident in Jameson's pleasure, but that didn't mean that guaranteed it would be his preferred sensation, and William always wanted to give Jameson what he enjoyed most, whether it was his birthday or not.
"N-no, no, I don't, it feels good, you feel good, please, William, don't stop, don't stop—"
Well, there wasn't a clearer sign of approval than that, now was there? William continued his thrusts, pulling Jameson into overstimulation, his body much more sensitive after the intensity of his first orgasm. But William had never intended to stop at just the first release in any event. No, the plan had always been to push Jameson to the edge with pleasure, to give him the utmost satisfaction in every possible way. And if William could accomplish something by just offering himself to Jameson's every last need and end up indulging himself in the process? Then all the better.
William continued with ample enthusiasm, it becoming more difficult by the second to contain his own release. It was not as if he couldn't continue after an orgasm—Jameson was so gorgeous that William doubted anything that night could put a damper on his arousal—but he did wish to preserve his stamina while he could, to ensure he could please Jameson as long as possible. It was so very difficult, though, with perfection seeping into every last ounce of his body, and it wasn't as if Jameson wouldn't be pleased to know he'd brought William to release—
"…T-too much." The whimper reached his ears, and William paid close attention in case Jameson used their safe words to take a break, but they didn't come. Instead, he clung to William all the tighter, moans still slipping out of his parted lips.
"What's too much, dearest?"
"It feels…like it's too much good for someone like me." It had been some time since Jameson had spoken in such a manner, which William had taken as a sign that Jameson's mentality had been improving. That wasn't to say it hadn't, but the scars he was dealing with were deep, and it would take time for them to heal in full, and that was assuming they ever would; the aftermath of Waterford's death had proven that. "I'm just…I'm so happy, William, I don't know what to do."
"If you feel happy, Jameson, all you need to do is feel happy."
"But I—after everything, to feel like this—"
"You deserve it."
Jameson gasped, his eyes wide as he stared at William. He didn't fall silent, no, not with William's unrelenting movements, but Jameson had been stunned into as close to speechless as he could get by the declaration. William pressed their foreheads together, keeping his voice soft and comforting. "Do you want to feel this way?" he asked, and, after a moment, Jameson nodded. "Then you deserve it." Where their bodies connected, William could feel that wetness again that signalled Jameson's utmost pleasure, and William doubled down: "You deserve to feel this good, Jameson. I won't let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself.
"Remember how we talked about words having power? You should say it."
"I…" Jameson swallowed, but it seemed he did recall the conversation in question, or at least understood enough of William's point to attempt. The words did not come easy, though, not even now, almost a full year since he'd been freed from his gilded cage, but they did come, and that was the most important part of all. "…I deserve this."
"Again, dearest."
"I-I deserve…to feel like this." Tears welled up in his voice, but they did not spill, and William didn't dare stop his movements for fear of making Jameson doubt the words he was speaking. "I deserve to feel happy."
"Yes. You deserve to feel more than happy. You deserve to enjoy whatever it is you please." That was a simple fact, one that all the more so applied to Jameson. It wouldn't make up for everything he'd been through, but it seemed like a fair enough compromise given the circumstances. "Whatever it is you want, Jameson, I will fulfil that wish tonight. I want you to tell me, no matter how trivial a desire."
Jameson seemed as if he were to say something, but his ongoing moans made it a bit difficult to get the words out. William was nothing but patient, though, and he waited, leaving gentle kisses down Jameson's neck in the process, just so that the experience didn't start to feel stale. "William," Jameson at last said, causing William to look up and meet his partner's gaze head on. "William, I want to orgasm together."
Those words alone were almost enough to make William release his careful control of himself, which would have been rather counterproductive to fulfilling Jameson's request. Even so, the grasp William was able to maintain was tenuous at best, so he would need to pick up the pace and bring Jameson to release once more were he to keep his promise.
"Jameson," he called, moaning right into his partner's ear. "Jameson, dearest, you're making fulfilling your request difficult." Whenever Jameson looked to him with almost dazed eyes, William pressed their foreheads together while he spared one hand to scratch a gentle pattern into the small of Jameson's back. "You're perfection. I don't know how much longer I can hold off."
Jameson's responding whine was drenched in both desperation and arousal; William had long since learned that Jameson very much enjoyed seeing William pushed to the edge because of him. "Wh-what can I do to help?"
"I told you to let me handle everything, didn't I?" William didn't intend to change that, though he could admit that some sort of help might be useful. "Though I suppose I wouldn't say no to you touching yourself, if you can manage it."
Jameson tightened one arm around William's shoulder to help him stay balanced. Eyes glittering with anticipation, Jameson offered his index and middle finger to William's lips, who sucked them in with vigour, his tongue flicking over the surface to coat it with as much saliva as he could before Jameson's patience ran out and he tucked those same fingers up against his exposed and swollen clitoris, a shuddering breath escaping from him as he moaned William's name with absolute reverence.
Within seconds, Jameson had climaxed, and it was a great relief for William to follow him, the pressure inside him releasing in the most all-encompassing heat. Even with orgasm descending upon them both, though, Jameson was relentless, begging, "Keep going, keep going," and William had no other option than to obey, pulling them both towards overstimulation without any remorse. Further, it was just their first union of the night, with more to come, and, at the rate they were going, it would be a miracle if they rose before noon the next day.
William could think of no better result than that.
It wasn't all that long into his ministrations, though, that Jameson's voice cracked, the sharp inhale serving as precursor to a sob. They were happy tears, that was for sure, but William eased himself down to stillness as Jameson cried in the way he always did whenever he was so overwhelmed with emotion that he didn't know what to do. William went to hold him close, there being a faint moment where he bowed too far forward and almost sent Jameson tumbling back, but soon they were crushed into each other's bodies, almost without even the space to breathe between them. "Jameson," William whispered, unable to get anything else out besides that wonderful, wonderful name. "My dearest, dearest Jameson."
"William! W-William!" Jameson hiccoughed, his grip upon William just as desperate, refusing to let go. "Oh, William, I… I…deserve to feel happy."
"You deserve to feel happy," William said, wishing to ensure that the words sunk in. "You deserve whatever you desire. You deserve to live a life of freedom, where no one but you may decide the choices you make or where you may go." No matter what Jameson decided upon, that would hold true. "And if what you want is to stay with me, then you deserve that, too."
His voice failing him for a moment, Jameson instead nodded several times, knocking his chin against William's shoulders in the process. "I-I do. I want to stay here for as long as possible. I-if I could, I—" He cut himself off, as if thinking better of what he was about to request, but then choosing to barrel forward with it anyways: "I would stay here forever."
In some ways, such a declaration broke William's heart. After all, Jameson could have so much more if he desired, could have the entire world at his fingertips. If he'd come to William and asked to be able to travel the globe, William would have made sure that Jameson could go wherever he wished, no questions asked. And yet, what Jameson wanted was instead much simpler, to be able to stay within the life that he'd at long last been able to find for himself, that more than enough at the present moment. And while William had some mixed feelings about that as a concept, he would never be so crass as to tell Jameson that what he wanted was wrong in any way. It was Jameson's choice, and that was what mattered more than anything. Besides, if William were to be asked what he wished for in regards to the situation, his answer would have been just as simple:
For Jameson to be able to stay with him as long as he could.
That, too, was a wish the both of them shared.
And so William smiled, pressing a kiss into Jameson's forehead without any care for the strands of ginger hair that stuck to his lips in the aftermath. "You are welcome in our home as long as it stands," he murmured, and Jameson sniffled in response. "You have long become a part of this family, Jameson. The key we gave you today is just a physical manifestation of something that has been true for months." If he were asked to pinpoint the precise moment that it happened, William would not be able to, but he knew, with certainty, that both of his brothers agreed. "This place is yours to come home to, yours to be welcomed back to, so long as you wish to return."
"A-always, then." Jameson hugged William tighter, and he returned the embrace with equal force. "Always you."
"Always you," William whispered, swearing to himself that he would keep that promise. No matter what happened, no matter what else might occur, William would keep providing a place for Jameson to return to, even after he died for his cause. Jameson had buried his face in William's shoulder, wetness remaining from his tears, but the flow starting to subside. "Would you like a handkerchief, dear?"
"Yes, please." It took a bit of manoeuvring to reach Jameson's jacket without dropping the man himself, but William managed proffering the neat-folded square to Jameson, who then went about blowing his nose and wiping his eyes. Even with his face a mess, he was still beautiful, still someone precious that William would protect with everything he had. "Um, William," Jameson said after a moment, his voice at last having cleared a bit, "If you don't mind, I do have another request…"
William chuckled, already having prepared himself for those words. "Let me guess: once more?"
"More than once. But yes, again." He pressed his forehead to William's, the both of them savouring that warmth with everything they had. "I assume that counts as part of me telling you even my most trivial of desires, yes?"
"Indeed it does."
And falling back while pulling his partner to be atop of him, William ensured that Jameson was satisfied until he at last dozed off with the light of dawn.
[Author's Notes]
The irony that this is posting much closer to William's "birthday" than Jameson's, but that's just how it goes sometimes. But it's that time of year in the story, so we had to have a nice fluff birthday chapter!
Gifting people a key to the home whenever they come of age was (to the best of my knowledge) a Victorian Era tradition. Jameson's kinda past that age, but it is his first birthday at Moriarty Manor, so I thought it was still fitting.
Extra props to beta Noiz for coming in with a clutch edit of this chapter despite being knock-out sick this past week. They're the best.
Now that this is done, we're about to enter the Fifth Bow saga, and a lot is going to be going down. I hope you all enjoy the rest of this arc!
Chapter title is from Dylan Dunlap's "Runnin'."
Next time: His Fifth Bow, Act One. Please look forward to it!
-Avi
[8 March 2025]