angrypiratehusbands:

Thomas gazed down upon the great Renaissance masterpiece that was his lover’s form. James laid sprawled out beneath him, stripped bare and flushed with desire and anticipation alike. The most perfect shade of pink graced his cheeks before spreading downward to darken the splattering of freckles that dotted over his neck and torso. They were not unlike the stars that blanketed the night sky, infinite in both their number and their beauty, and forming such a vast array of constellations. Ones that Thomas vowed to spend the rest of his days mapping out beneath the trace of his fingers and the kiss of his lips.

Those green eyes bore into Thomas with the weight of a man starved. From within their vast depths James pleaded, silently begging for him to taste, to touch. To indulge him in the same ways he had time and time again since their unceremonious reunion at the center of that plantation. They had spent nary a night since then without falling into one another. Morning, afternoon, evening… Sometimes even in the middle of the night. It mattered not, as their futile yet fervent efforts to make up for lost time gave no consideration for the hour. And Thomas would bend to his desires and towards James’ needs each and every time, for they were the one and the same. To kiss, touch, grope, and fuck. To make love until they breathed the very air into the other’s lungs, and they had become so irreparably intertwined that they would never, could never, part again.

Thomas would do all these things, time and time again. And not only for James, no, but for himself as well. For over these past ten years, not a day had gone by that James wasn’t at the front of his mind, demanding his attention, his wanderings, his hopes and his fears. God how he had missed him. God, how he loved him still. Forever and always, like the sun that warmed the sky above and the seas that gave life to the land below.

The drag of James’ lips were rough against his own. Sun swept from years at sea just as his own had been from years spent inland. It was just another reminder of their own toils and trials, and of the distinct scars left behind from their time spent apart. James fighting against the injustices of the crown, and Thomas suffering beneath the weight of them.

Still, the kiss was such that it resonated with ones of a life long past. It was soft and gentle like the flickering glow of candlelight in his dining room, tentative like the first night they had fallen into bed with one another, and slow and listless as it had been the following morning. It was all of these things and more. And as Thomas found himself drawing away he could have sworn his breath had left him, stolen away by the very man that had given it in the first place.

“Please.”

The word was little more than a whispered prayer, hushed and fragile in its innocence, its vulnerability. Yet Thomas could only smile. He smoothed his hand over James’ cheek, watching with such reverence as that simple touch was enough to make his eyes fall closed. He traced along his jaw, down his neck, before wandering further over the expanse of his torso. Those muscles rippled beneath his wandering touch like the cords of a finely tuned instrument. One capable of producing the loveliest sounds imaginable if only given the opportunity –and the proper motivation.

Thomas allowed his hand to explore further, smoothing over the gentle swell of his belly before moving down the outside of his thigh. The faint dusting of copper hair was more plush than the softest down, and the muscles beneath it more tempting than the gardens of Eden. He stroked lovingly over the supple flush, smiling at the way James shifted restlessly beneath him, before finally tracing over the sensitive region of his inner thigh. Finally he heard it. That short intake of breath before those petal lips parted on a reverent sigh. Like a gentle breeze on a lazy afternoon.

“Still sensitive here, I see,” Thomas mused faintly. As he spoke he continued to trace his fingers along that inner thigh, from the cut of his groin to the dip behind his knee.

James merely hummed, the sound raising low from the back of his throat in a way that likened it to rolling thunder. Despite the way the green of his irises had been eclipsed by a heady black, those eyes were still tender as they gazed up at him. Kind.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Though the words had surely been meant to come out in the form of a grumbled order, perhaps with a hint of harshness from his relentless teasing, they did not. Instead they were spoken like a humble request, a timid prayer. One that Thomas couldn’t bare to deny for even another moment.

Their mouths slotted together perfectly, their lips parting and tongues caressing as each sought to lose themselves entirely in the other. And lose themselves they did. With panted breaths and whispered moans, with fervent kisses and wandering, desperate hands, they lost themselves in those tumultuous depths. And when they finally came together, though it was not the first time and certainly not the last, they did so with their fingers intertwined. Pressed back into the bedding and locked in a silent promise. That what was and what has been will never get in the way of what will be, for their love knows no past sins, no failures. Only hope for the future that was now spread out before them.