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How warm the water is?

How lovely the soap smells?

How hard it is not to touch myself while I'm thinking of you?

Yes. [ immediately. the network cannot convey his sense of breathless urgency, but - ]

The latter.

It's excruciating, darling.

At the best of times, really, but so much more difficult when I'm already naked.

[ thomas is still in public and it's only age and years of self-control that have him keep his body's reactions down (literally).

after a breathless pause: ]

What if you did? Touch yourself, that is. Only gently, of course, not to get you anywhere until I'm here.

Shall I imagine it's you stroking me, Thomas?

Yes. So you'll have to go as slow as I would, in this moment.

Will you call me?

[He can't actually type if he's going to follow directions, after all.

And, well, this would be much, much better with Thomas's voice in his ear.]

[ the call comes a moment later, thomas's voice low and intimate, although the first words are ] I'm still in the corridors. [ in public. a warning, an apology, something in between. ]

[William's laugh is soft, likely blending slightly with the constant patter of the shower.]

Bit naughty of you. [A slow, contented sigh punctuates.] You ought to be here.

Mh, quite. [ confirmation and agreement that he ought to be there, yes. confirmation and agreement that it's a bit naughty, too. ]

I plan to be, in a moment.

Good.

[Needy; heedless; faintly breathless.]

Shall I... speed up, then?

[ the breathless note has thomas pick up the pace, fanning his own sense of urgency and need.

but, ]

No.

No, I want - [ he's in public. ] If anything, you ought to slow down.

[The next noise is less of a laugh and more of a low purr, interrupted by the faintest hitch of breath.]

Say you want me to.

[ he cannot in good conscience move any faster. ]

I do. [ oh, how he does. wants william to slow down, wants him to speed up, just wants him, full stop. thomas makes a noise in return, a hint of frustration, mostly need.

in truth, ] Quite desperately, if you must know.

Of course I must.

[That's more than half of what's got his voice so terribly giddy, although the lazy attentions he's paying himself aren't hurting.]

It... ah, it feels wonderful, Thomas.

Your door is unlocked, is it?

[ with some measure of urgency. the answer is about to become immediately relevant. did he ask this before? his mind is somewhat blank right now, admittedly, or hyperfocused. ]

[This laugh is faintly giddy, a rush of pleasure with all the myriad realizations the question sparks up in him at once.]

It-- is. [Another purring edge of teasing as he adds:] Are you close, Thomas?

[ there is no verbal response-- just the swooshing of the door, steps, another swoosh of the bathroom door and then thomas is there. instead of a suit, he's wearing thin cotton pants and a simple white tee. his normally neat side-parting is dishevelled, sweat on his brow and hair dark at the temples. he is still, in fact, unwrapping tape from around his knuckles, although it's quite clear that he's nearly finished with it, that he's been multi-tasking on the way here. ]

You, Mr Lawford, are a menace.

[William, for his own part, isn't-- well. Wearing anything at all. Which makes perfect sense, surely, as he's leaned lazily against the shower wall, fingers moving at an unhurried pace along the length of his cock.

There's a sharp intake of breath in the clear effort not to speed up as Thomas steps through the door, followed by a slow, smiling exhale.]

Lock the door, m'eudail.

[ it takes only the press of a palm to lock the door behind him, but thomas needs two tries to find the panel, unwilling as he is to take his eyes off william for even just a second. he wants to commit it to memory, yes, the way william is leaning against the wall lazily, the grasp of fingers around the length of his cock, the intake of breath, the smile, but beyond that, he thinks he'd be unable to look away even if he wanted to, captivated.

with the door closed and, eventually, locked, thomas can let go of the tight leash he's held himself on, shoulders dropping, the thin cotton of the trousers doing nothing to hide the way his own cock jerks and fills out at the sight, at the noise. ]

You look -

[ good, is muffled by his shirt as he pulls it over his head in one motion, not bothering to fold it. ]

[The fumbling feels delightfully complimentary. The look feels very much the same. There's a novelty, still, to being studied like this--openly, hungrily--that curls wonderfully in the pit of his stomach as he forces his hand to keep the same even pace on himself.

There's a novelty in being allowed to study, as well. The warm water from the shower is perhaps putting the faintest softness around the edges, but the lovely little details come through clearly all the same. The stretch of Thomas's fingers reaching for the panel, the relaxation hitting his shoulder, the sweat-ruffled hair, the smooth motion of beginning to strip; it keeps William's heart pounding in his ears.]

Flirt.

[Words are getting more sluggishly caught in his throat, now that Thomas is here but still just out of reach. His fingers briefly loosen before taking a tighter grip on himself, chin lifting as he lets his head rest back against the wall.]

Says the man who asked for my assistance unmaking his bed. [ comes the prompt response, crisp and clear because thomas is very focused, very present now. he certainly doesn't mind; his chest feels a little tight, lungs expanding to take in a breath after the other.

they both have scars; william is missing a limb and thomas comes with the puckered entry and exit wound of a bullet on his chest, his thigh. it's nothing they haven't seen, felt, touched before, and yet.

there's almost a pause before thomas undoes his trousers, although it is more due to the way william's fingers tighten around his cock than it is out of any concern for scars. almost, only, and then he pushes his trousers down and tosses aside the last of the tape from his knuckles, kicking off his shoes, as naked as william himself, although considerably less wet for the time being. ]

[It's different, like this. There's more exposure to the bits and pieces that don't feel quite right yet--the scattering of inelegant shrapnel scars, the ugly mangle of larger injuries, the places that don't quite work the way they used to.

But it's so easy, with Thomas. It's almost nothing, to stand exposed; to meet the same exposure with an eye only for the wonder and joy of being able to be this close to another living, breathing, lovely body.

William lets his head loll slightly to the side against the wall of the shower, breath hitching as his fingers unconsciously tighten another hair.]

Come here?

[ the exposed line of william's neck when his head goes back, the hitch in his breath-- those catch thomas's attention far more than the shrapnel scars or lack of limb and it takes thomas a moment to drag his gaze away, to return to the task at hand.

which is really only getting into the shower. he's performed far more difficult and less pleasant tasks in his life. and once he's resumed control of his limbs, that's what he does in short order, reaching one hand out to william's waist less to steady himself as for the sheer joy of touching.

voice a little rough: ] How does it feel?

[The sensations change as Thomas steps into the shower. The water hits his skin differently. The heat of another body adds a distinct warmth from the pleasant temperature of the water. The fingers on his hip send a shock of warmth through him, radiating from the spot where the familiar touch has come to rest.

William's eyes flutter closed for a moment, spine arching slightly from the wall.]

Wonderful. [A sigh as much as a word. A purr as much as a full thought.] But not as good as you.

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