james/thomas, 57+74 :)

comtessedebussy:

bisexualpirateheart:

                    “Is that my shirt?/Of course I remembered!”

James traces the curve of Thomas’s jaw, fingertips lazy in their
caress. His other hand slips down to brush across Thomas’s collarbone.

Thomas murmurs sleepily into his palm. Something that sounds
vaguely and hopefully like “tea?”

James smiles, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

He rises from the bed and grabs the first item of clothing he
spies, pulling the shirt over his head, letting it fall to his thighs as he
makes his way to the kitchen. 

By the time he returns with a mug of hot tea, Thomas has managed
to sit halfway up in bed in an effort to be awake. His hair is delightfully
tousled and he only makes it more so by scratching his fingers through it
sleepily.

He smiles at the sight of James in the doorway.

“What is it?” James hands him the mug, sitting down
beside him.

“Do you remember the first time you wore my shirt?”
Thomas asks.

James pauses. Does he remember that? Is Thomas serious?

                                                    *  *  *

He’d been so intent on leaving before Thomas woke that first
morning together. He’d gotten dressed and was creeping towards the door, clutching
his boots when there had come a soft question behind him.

“Are you really leaving before breakfast?”

James turns back to find Thomas sitting up in bed, gazing at him
with a disappointed expression. 

“I know how busy you must be, my lord.” James offers
futilely. “I didn’t want to disturb you further.”

“If it comes to that, you haven’t disturbed me at
all.” Thomas’s mouth curves upward slightly. “Just one question then,
before you go, lieutenant.”

James waits, heart thumping painfully in his chest.

“Is that my shirt?” Thomas asks curiously.

James stares down at himself and then sheepishly nods. “I
just grabbed the first one I saw.”

“Come here.” Thomas reaches out a hand and half reluctantly,
James lowers his boots to the floor and goes over to him.

Thomas takes him by the sleeves, fixing his cuffs, making James
blush with the casual intimacy of the gesture. They had been in bed together,
skin to skin and still, this is what makes him blush in the morning light
after.

“Must you go?” Thomas whispers, his fingers stroking over
James’s wrist.

“I suppose I could stay a little longer.” James confesses.

Thomas smiles, drawing him down by the sleeves to kiss him
again.

                                                  *  *  *

Thomas is just sitting there in bed, smiling at the memory. If
he hadn’t been holding tea, James would have thrown something at him for the
sappiness of his expression.

“Of course I remembered.” James says.

He moves to straddle Thomas’s thighs, gently taking
the tea from him and setting it aside as he does.

“I was drinking that.” Thomas complains.

“Too late.” James murmurs him. “You got me all nostalgic.” He
sinks down between Thomas’s thighs, nuzzling at his cock.

“Nostalgia, is that what we’re calling it?” Thomas exhales as
James licks down the full length of him.

“Mhm.” James says and takes him in his mouth.

                                                  *  *  *

Do you remember the
first time you wore my shirt?

Flint stirs restlessly, again wondering at Thomas’s asking
such a foolish question. Of course he remembers. He turns over in bed to tell
Thomas this yet again.

But Thomas isn’t there. The bed beside him is empty and
cool. These sheets have never smelled of Thomas’s scent. The shirt he’s wearing
no longer does.

The sunlight spreading across the floor is dim. From the
kitchen he can hear Miranda making tea.

Flint squeezes his eyes shut against the inevitable arrival
of morning, willing himself to return to that dream world. But it’s too late.
The phantom has faded and he’s alone.

WHO PERMITTED THIS excuse me this is illegal fuck you