Chapter Text
No POV:
“Thomas…” Alastair breathed, as he gripped the man’s face in his hands, looking right into his warm eyes. Just his name, whispered like a prayer. What more had he to say? Alastair tilted his head up to gently place a kiss to Thomas’ lips, eliciting from him a pleased shiver. His fingers slipped up into his hair, and wound themselves in the soft strands. One of Thomas’ large palms pressed into the small of his back, drawing him closer. Alastair did not know for how long he would be allowed to rest in this heavenly creature’s arms, but for the hours he did get, he would be eternally grateful.
Alastair pulled away smiling uncharacteristically sweetly, still within the circle of Thomas’ arms, unwilling to move too far. The way he looked, with his hair disheveled, and lips kiss-swollen, made heat pool in Thomas’ chest, rippling out to the tips of his fingers and toes, and making his head go all fuzzy.
“You’re beautiful, Alastair”, he said, and watched as his cheeks darkened at an almost alarming rate. It made him look so lovely Thomas thought the whole thing should be outlawed. One man should not possess so much power over another. If Alastair had asked for Thomas to declare his affections for him to Matthew, Thomas feared he would have done so without question.
Alastair made to turn his face away in embarrassment, but was stopped by a hand gently cupping his chin. He met Thomas’ intense gaze and was greeted with a look so full of adoration and longing, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss his face off or burst into wretched tears.
He decided on the former and slipped his arms around Thomas’ shoulders, deftly shucking the other man’s coat off. He pressed his lips to his cheekbones, moving down along the smooth skin to mouth at his strong jaw. The blessed bone structure of this man. Unbelievable. He let his thumbs rub light circles into his temples, then leisurely trailed his fingers down his face to rub under his jawline. Thomas stayed still under these gentle ministrations, as if his any movement would drive this Alastair away.
Thomas’ head was tilted up to allow Alastair space to lick a line down the column of his throat, all the way to his collarbones. He finally jerked into motion when he felt the smaller man undo the first three buttons of his shirt, grasping the fabric of Alastair’s shirt, loosening them out of their confines in the process.
“Wait”, he said softly, and startled at the way Alastair immediately jumped away. The man blinked, as if surprised himself, and looked sheepishly back at Thomas.
“I just thought we should take our shoes off… so as not to dirty the mattress?” he said, now feeling slightly embarrassed that he may have ruined the flow of the proceedings for such a thing.
Surprisingly enough, Alastair laughed in apparent relief. “Oh! Yes, of course Thomas.”
The two quickly kicked off their shoes and spats, eager to get back to what they’d been doing before Thomas’ very considerate interruption.
Thomas sat back against the wall and watched as Alastair undid his cuffs and crawled back over to him. The smile he flashed him was fond, but also teasing, this time making Thomas blush to the tips of his ears. Alastair stopped right in front of him, and slowly lifted a hand to caress Thomas’. He leaned forward to lightly bump his nose into Thomas’ before sitting back and squeezing his hand reassuringly.
Still looking him in the eye, Alastair lifted his limp arm into his lap and began to undo the buttons at the cuff, and began neatly folding up the sleeve. Thomas was unsure what exactly he was trying to accomplish, but wasn’t complaining in the least.
When the sleeve was tucked safely above his elbow, Alastair moved his eyes to look down at the exposed skin. Thomas followed the movement and saw Alastair’s nimble musician fingers trace the inky lines of his compass tattoo.
“I remember the day you told me you planned to get one of these”, he said, effectively making Thomas’ breath hitch in his throat, “I’m glad you did, Thomas. Suits you.”
Alastair had remembered. That gesture meant more to Thomas than all the messy, hungry kisses, all the soft touches. He grabbed the front of Alastair’s shirt and pulled, making him groan and pitch forward, nearly onto his lap. He smashed their lips together, kissing him hard.
Alastair responded in kind, sucking at his lower lip, and letting his tongue run along his teeth. An especially skilled move made Thomas jerk his head back in pleasure. But instead of stopping, Alastair, in a state of dizzying bliss, simply chased after his mouth, until WHAM! Thomas’ head smacked right into the wall.
The sound of it, and the pained groan it pulled out of Thomas were enough to halt all movement. Alastair looked positively stricken.
“Thomas! All hell- Are you alright?” he shouted, hovering over Thomas’ face. He looked so worried, Thomas couldn’t help but laugh. This did nothing to ease the expression on his face, or the idea that their sacrilegious escapades had caused Thomas to get concussed.
“I’m alright Alastair!” he said, wincing and rubbing the back of his head, “Just a little bump”.
Alastair’s brows remained pinched, but the rest of him relaxed at he brought his palm up to press tight circles into to the back of the other man’s head.
“Maybe we should take a short break anyway” he said, much to Thomas’ apparent dismay.
Thomas’ mind then inexplicably conjured up the image of Alastair as a mother hen, leading him to the conclusion that maybe he had hit his head too hard.
“Yeah…” he agreed, instead of making the arguments he so desperately wanted to. “Bridget’s lovely cooking is right here, just waiting to be eaten after all.”
Alastair nodded with a short laugh and moved to uncover the food.
“Sandwiches, apple slices, and cider to wash it all down”, he said, looking quizzically back at Thomas. “These are your favourite foods?”
“Don’t you dare insult Bridget’s glorious sandwiches, Alastair”, he said, playfully punching the other on the shoulder, “Some crimes cannot be forgiven, even by one so merciful as I.”
Alastair offered him a sandwich then picked one up for himself. He gave Thomas a look that essentially said this better not disappoint and bit into the bread as he watched with bated breath. Thomas needn’t have worried, of course. Bridget would die before she let her cooking disappoint, and the euphoric look Alastair was sporting was proof of it.
Thomas couldn’t wait to dig in either, and it wasn’t long before all the sandwiches were disposed of. They sat in each other’s comfortable presence, occasionally making mindless comments and laughing, sipping on sweet cider. They talked of Paris, and Michelangelo’s David, and Alastair’s favourite books.
They maintained this decent enjoyment of gentlemanly company until Alastair decided to munch on an apple slice. Thomas’ brain near short-circuited at the seemingly innocent action. He couldn’t help but take in the movement of Alastair’s perfect jaw as he chewed, or the way he licked at his lips to prevent the juice from dribbling down his strong chin. Alastair, unaware of the effect he was having on the other, continued to talk about 13th Century Persian poetry, stopping only to bite into the damnable apple slice.
“Now in the Golestan, Sa’di himself--- Wha? Thomas!” he stuttered as Thomas tackled him back onto the mattress, kissing him with ferocious urgency. Alastair seeing no reason to stop him, gasped and drew him closer, hard enough to send them both rolling off the pallet.
Barely stopping for long enough to get comfortably settled again, they each continued their onslaught on the other’s body. Hands scratching over backs and shoulders, arms gripping hard enough to hurt, toes curling in needy anticipation.
In an unexpected burst of yearning, Thomas’ hand slipped to the waistband of Alastair’s pants, fingers digging roughly into his hip-bone. All activity halted for an endless second, before Alastair’s utterly debauched face broke in a smile so saccharine, it made Thomas’ heart ache.
“I want to Thomas,” he said steadily, “but if something serious is to happen between us. It will not be because you were bunged into the Sanctuary on account of being suspected of murder.”
Alastair wanted nothing more than to get as close to Thomas as one humanly could, but he did not want to make a decision so heavy in the heat of the moment. Besides, neither could be sure the Sanctuary was safe. They could be interrupted any minute, and Alastair refused to do anything else that might cause Thomas harm.
Thomas’ face fell for just a split second, before he regained his composure and smiled brightly.
“Sound decision, Alastair” he said coyly, positioning himself between Alastair’s legs, and slipping a warm hand up under his rumpled shirt. Thomas felt him shiver as he slid his palm across the smooth, perfectly defined slopes and dips of his body, “There’re so many other things we can do instead.”
The wicked grin he got in response wholeheartedly agreed.