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[ the truth of it, a truth that thomas has spent a long time hiding because it was not the sort of thing that was done, that a man of his station (or any man at all, really) ought to feel, the truth is that thomas loves this. loves being on his knees for another man, loves the weight of a cock on his tongue, the stretch of his mouth around it and the slight ache of his jaw, the pleasure he can give this way.

he loves this and his own cock is achingly hard with it. loves it so much that when william tugs at his hair in warning, he thinks about ignoring the implication, about doubling down his efforts instead of easing up. thinks about swallowing william down until he feels him spill down his throat, and moans with the thought--

but there are other things he loves, too, and william said something about unmaking the bed.

he pulls back, letting william linger on his tongue, on his lips as long as he can before pressing his face to william's thigh and just breathing through how badly he wants.

voice rough, ] Promise you'll fuck me into your sheets?

[It's difficult to say what the best thing about being here is. There are a number of factors and balances, beyond the fact that "best" will always been counterbalanced by the fact that they've been stolen from their respective homes and can't be where the feeling in their bones tell them to be.

But moments like this rate somewhere wonderfully high up.

This particular moment--falling over the edge at the low murmur of Thomas's voice against his skin, hand barely catching himself away so that the mess of being pushed to release is more a problem for the shower than the man kneeling before him--is certainly completely distracting from the downsides. All his mind can manage to cling to is the breathless joy of this small space, of this warm connection.

It takes a few gulping breaths before he can nod.] In-- just a moment, darling. I promise.

[ thomas turns his face just in time to see william spill, jerking with it, positioned away just in time. it doesn't help his own need, the insistent ache of it, but--

thomas is a patient man. ]

There's no rush. [ he manages, after clearing his throat. he sounds as wrecked as william, he thinks, and turns back to mouth at william's thigh, no real goal in mind but wanting the contact.

there isn't any rush, really, but-- ] Please.

[They've been patient their entire lives. They've lived with not quite enough, with too little time and too great a need, with finding sufficient satisfaction from nights that still left an ache.

It's such a blessing, being allowed to linger here with Thomas still warm and close--with the easy promise of more at their own pace.]

Bed. [He's still breathless. The throb in his entire being is still pitching slowly downward, coming back under control. Still, William is entirely certain it won't take terribly long to be ready again if they keep up this lovely tangling together.] Now.

[There's no rush, but there's need.]

Yes- [ it's breathless, acknowledgment and pleasure and acquiescence. his fingers dig into william's hips for a moment as thomas moves to stand, a little slow on account of his knees-- not as bad as they once were, not by a long stretch, but his body has not reverted back to its early twenties. and then he is close and he finds that he wants, needs to kiss william before he can even think to move out of the shower and toward the bed.

his own aching desire is almost distant, but anticipation makes it all the more pressing. ]

[This is an acceptable distraction from the immediacy of "now." His fingers lift, wet, perhaps sticky, to curl against the back of Thomas's neck for a heartbeat, clinging gently to the kiss.

It's wonderful, having something sweet and real in the middle of all this heat and need.

It's also wonderful, after a moment, to nip at the other man's lower lip and start to push them forward.]

[ thomas shivers a little-- from the kiss, from the feel of william's fingers curling over his neck, most certainly from william's teeth against his lower lips.

for a moment, thomas fumbles blindly toward getting out of the shower. in the end, in the interest of not breaking any bones, he finds himself breaking the kiss to actually look at where he's going, to grab at a towel and then another one to hand to william.

(if he uses the towel in his hands not to dry himself off, but to dab at william's skin, well. surely, that is only proper and thus needs no explanation or forgiveness.) ]

[He has to laugh, soft and utterly pleased as the towel he's rubbing over his own hair is joined by the one Thomas has kept hold of. There's something almost absurd about the moment--being allowed the time and space to fumble between fits of passion with a man he genuinely adores, being caught in the sort of quiet intimacy he'd never have dared to dream of properly reaching with anyone who might have been deemed suited to be his spouse.

His own towel is slightly damp as he swats it lightly at the other man's chest, still laughing with complete abandon.] We'll never make it, at this rate.

[But they have time for that as well. They have time to linger here in quiet appreciation without rushing to steal a few moments longer. It sends a painful joy straight to the pit of William's stomach, towel slung briefly over his own shoulder so his fingers can be used to catch Thomas's chin for another soft kiss.]

[ it's absurd, maybe, and thomas is so hard, has been for so long now that he'd be amazed if any blood was left in his brain at all. maybe that explains some of the fumbling. maybe it's absurd, but it's also —it's joyful. it's making william laugh, swatting his towel and thomas's chest, eyes crinkling.

thomas hasn't had that in so long. he's not sure he's ever had that, this uncomplicated joy interrupting the focus of desire.

and then william is kissing him again and thomas sighs into it, desire taking the lead again as he presses close and is reminded of how desperately hard he is when his hips come into contact with william's thigh.

his moan might be a little absurd, too, startlingly loud in the kiss, but he's let most if not all his defenses down around william and so it doesn't get swallowed in time. ]

We're probably dry enough, [ he manages after a moment. ]

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